Fulcrum Full Moon

Wolf

Image by Camila Aguiar

Long liminal superstitions or
apparitions?
Of transitional regressed
mendicant memories evoking
this wolf, he smelt her ashen
interweaving intersectional
scent, one blithesome breath
away.

Garrish hues of snowy white
salient certainties so silent
shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
sharp, stenciled, stalking, sly
subconscious circuitry
cues catalyze GO-GO-GO (!)
yet she’s a mewed memento,
pellucid.

Hot and heavenly panorama
curt and claustrophobic Miss
missing in ostentatious optic
serene sight (?)
strobing enkindled animosity
ire of idle hands, sidle man
bridled alarm anachronistic
fleeing.

She splintered in eventuality
courted contextuality
a rouge bruise, lips smeared
with foresworn servility shame
borrowed feet petite
and bare, does a wrathful wolf
cry? Welled in darkened deluge
ducts.

Outlines of demarcated dire in
plurality, shaded specter
libation lessons rued in rare
charm, comeuppance in
concentric cycles caste in ilk
catharsis claw, charlatan door
such blame shame, sisyphean
unending loop.

© Edward Swafford 2025

My piece touches on a story as old as time itself. A societal curse of humankind, affecting women (and men, children, etc.) across every socioeconomic backdrop, and every walk of life.

Wolves roam, stalk their prey, isolate, and devour it. Victims of domestic violence know these beasts all too well: creatures clad in human suits.

*Originally published in Fourth Wave

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