i called you
two minutes from home
because the moon,
low and orange and gigantic on the horizon,
was worth seeing

when you couldn’t see it
you told me to pick you up
so i pulled over
you stepped in
and we drove

no longer visible from
where i had called you
we continued to drive
over the bridge
into the next town–
to no avail–
nothing lay on the horizon anymore

we marveled
at the speed of the moon
(but really, the speed of the earth’s rotation)
kissed beneath nothing but a street lamp
and drove home.

Yes, the wolf,
he bites and does his damages
to prey and plaything,
choking out the beauty
so noble-ly, and until
they die, only to rend
the flesh from bones.

But he, he is a fisherman,
and a catch-and-release man, too.
He deals only so much damage
and just long enough
to claim to have held,
before casting catch away.

At least the wolf,
gory and red though
his work may be,
has the dignity
to mean it.

a hankie is just a way
to carry your snot around
with you and slowly
crust up your pocket