By: Adrian Slonaker
Wolves should be snarlingly brutal,
not pining meekly
for your meaty feet shod with Earth shoes.
Wolf-tails shouldn’t wag
when wolf-ears are stroked
by your bloodstone- and onyx-ringed fingers.
Wolves should display dominance,
not yielding to tameness
when you prattle praat-praat in charmingly clumsy Afrikaans.
Wolves should hunt and conquer,
not nestling themselves
in scent-dunes of your sage deodorant.
Quivering in the quicksand of shoulds and shouldn’ts
yet perplexedly punch-drunk in step with you,
this once-mighty wolf must do
Lick your face-brusquely-while you slumber,
nuzzle you-all of you-one last time
and trot off alone
to reclaim its heritage of solitude.