Wolf says forever by ripping flesh
into emptiness by calling out the answer
to the moon’s riddles, I am I am I am, the oldest answer
the moon knows but does not understand. The moon
borrows everything. The wolf takes
everything. One is the shade of the other. Wolf promises
forever by gobbling up flesh
to fill emptiness. Wolf promises and promises
and promises. Forever is farther. Forever
is a notion between the sun and the moon. The moon
prefers haiku, the slippery now. This is how I am
tonight. This is how I am. Tonight,
take me or do not take me. In the wolf’s promise, teeth
as bare as moonrock. In the wolf’s promise, a lie,
a truth, now is never.
–
Cassandra Whitaker (they/them) is a trans writer from Virginia. Their work has been published in or is forthcoming in Barrelhouse, Hobart, Kitchen Table Quarterly, The Little Patuxent Review, Foglifter, Evergreen Review, The Comstock Review, and other places. They are a member of the National Book Critics Circle.