The Wolves
a poem
This is your precious thing, Boy
Protect it with your life
I will, Sir, I’m glad to do it
But I don’t know how.
I’m only thirteen.
The wolves come at thirteen, Boy
Learn or die.
The wolves did come,
they came, and they came,
they still come at night.
The wolves aren’t thirteen.
The wolves are ancient.
The wolves know how to destroy
Everything you know how to create.
Your precious thing has scars
Your precious thing has wounds
each one represents a moment
When you were too young
too young to know
know how to keep the wolves at bay.