Tuesday, August 14, 2018

In our wolf-cave,
naked, on hands and knees,
you hover over me.
Teeth attend my skin.

In a bite of moment,
I wonder:

how that furry foster mother
took in those infant foundlings
washed up on Tiber’s tides,

how her gentle fangs
caressed their necks,
carried them to her lair,
laid them in her litter,

how her tongue
stroked clean
their ears, faces,
rumps and groins,

how they slept
among her cubs
in a curve of belly hair,

what she-wolf matrix
mothers
the makers
of cities eternal.