this poem is for dee dee

I am the wolf

you wrap your tiny finger around
a lock of my hair
your legs grip my waist
like a vice
your beautiful brown eyes sink
into my own
and your soul says
'i trust you'
i hold you close and i tell you

voiceless

'i am the wolf'

your new mama gives you
pretty things
the glasses perched atop your button nose
your old mama couldn't buy
you giggle and serve me tea
but only in the kitchen
dorothy
not on the carpet

but her name is dee dee
dee dee, i cry
'we're using her christian name now'
says the new mama
dee dee giggles
but
no glasses
or pretty dresses
can hide the shadows
of her heart
'where is junior, she asks'
'where is my brother?'

i hold her close as i say goodbye
she asks when i'll come again
rain falls from my face
soon, dee dee, soon

as i open my book to record a note
i am the wolf

i see dee dee's mama
alone at the street corner
shivering, shaking
awaiting the next wave of extacy
to wash her away
i sit with her and she cries
she cries the stories of a hundred years
she tell what happened at
the mush hole
and the tears
become a puddle at her feet
she cries for all her children
gone to her, forever
she cries for her sisters and aunties
and for the moon she doesn't know
anymore
and the puddle becomes a river
we hold each other and the river carries us
she cries for her father she never knew and for
the trees and skies and earth
that used to know her name
her tears flow like waterfalls
consuming the earth
in a great flood
she cries for the babies not yet born
and the medicines she does not have

i hold her tight and we are washed away into the
wildness of her aching soul
and still
and still
i am the wolf