Category: A Mythological Autobiography of a Wolf

Blunt and Fact
are the first two words which come to mind.
A massive Hercules,
its four propellers cutting through air and cloud,
brings home the loud drunken voice
complaining to the dark.
Little by little the world rose up
and drowned you.

My wild unfortunate proud father,
between the drops of rain
which perforated the sky
you stood not allowed to dance.

They couldn’t tame you
So they put you in a cage.
Your first crime, however,
was being an ‘Indian.’
It was a daily happening
which groaned through your blood.
That inferno is scarcely gone.
It gazes back at me
through the rear-view mirror.

Mother,
My mouth trembles to describe you;
Your ever present humility,
not used to this bitter poverty
brought on by my father’s unwillingness to work.

Those gentle hands
which wiped the tears
from my swollen red eyes
each time after the other kids beat and ran me home
because of my blood and long hair.

Oh mother, how could I not
go on remembering you,
Even when I was able to stand on my own
going off into the world by myself
You still loved me.
Even though you didn’t understand my reasons
and actions.
You always took my collect calls.