The rain marches outside the door
unfurling shadows from dawn
as the wind turns a shoulder
and weighs what is said
among crafty wolves
eyeing the motions of hungry children
whose words hang on hollow branches
and fall each day like blackened fruit
the wolves with no hesitation arrive
bared teeth drum the ground
as they circle in a macabre dance
The children, sleepless, push out of sleep
looking at silhouettes of hunger
in an ecstasy of suspicions
Their arms suspended like a clouds
while inheriting blank faces of fear
through the moon’s shadowed
and quartered eye