It’s good to howl into the night and sanctify the new year
with the song of wolves. Even if it wakes the neighbors.
It’s good to clench my thighs under the dinner table
at secret memories, and moments of pleasure
and sniff the world just for the sake of it. It’s good
to be alive for another moment when death becomes birth,
and dark finds its way again into day.
I love. I have loved. I will love again.
I have been hurt. I have hurt. I will hurt again.
I have lost. All I have will be lost again.
But for now it’s good to dream, and sing.
Wolf Mother smiles in her implacable way,
licks her lips, looks with feral yellow eyes
and sighs, Daughter
if you thought you could get through this Life
without being noticed, you’ve got another thing coming.