In Retreat

Betsy Struthers
From:   Virgin Territory. Wolsak & Wynn, 1996.

Meant to be exercise, to excite
appetite between hours of work
and dinner. A stroll in the long
blue February dusk, walking
on water as if she were that
far from common. Drawn

to examine the black hump
on new snow between islands.
A haunch. A hoof. Lumps of hide
the dogs nose, their hackles rising.
She backs away on stiff legs,
dangerous hands fisted at her hips,
and words burst from her, vanish
in puffs of steam the wolf senses,
halts, turns his gray gaze on her.

Everything he knows of
predator and prey sends him
trotting into woods and dream.
This night again she tosses
in her narrow bed, red blanket
tucked between cold thighs and
her smallest voice pleading,
What big teeth you have.
What eyes.

Poem 1 | Poem 2 | Poem 3 | Poem 4 | Poem 5 | Poem 6

Betsy Struthers's works copyright © to the author.