Wolf-He

by Leslie Trumphour

Furry sides heave
blowing up and down in thin and precious mountain air.
His yellow-laden eyes secret suns to my dark.
He lifts up, walking—
Ambled four-beat locomotion
from hind through fore
with a counterpoint of flagging tail.
I wait for his crossing, wanting—
while stippled moonlight drips from pointed silvered hairs.
Hunger lifts his chin to call to mate
but she's not there.
His three-beat flying charge is overtaking rabbit fright.
The soft-slung body warm but dangling—
Now we hold prey, our incisors tearing
puffy rabbit fur away from ready meat.