My Wolf

I thought my brothers deserved it.
House of straw! House of wood!
When they came banging
on my good strong door,
I said No.

I thought Your fault, not mine;
I got myself a beer,
turned up the telly when
the squealing started.

But later that night
there were voices saying:
What sort of an animal are you?

And what about that wolf?

They said:
Maybe there’s more than one kind of wolf.
They said:
Maybe we summon our own wolves.

And the more I tried
to ignore them, the
louder they got until
I couldn’t stand it and

when I shut my eyes
to make them stop

My Wolf

I saw my wolf,
picking his way through the darkness,
stopping only to show
the moon his teeth,
and to sniff at the air for pig.