Growing Up Canine
It is not that I was raised by wolves -
my parents yipped and fought like humans do.
But still I grew half-feral.
In the basement broken chairs were a thicket.
My brother and I rolled muddy as puppies.
We ate mustard sandwiches for dinner.
On the playground, laughter assaulted me.
Hiding behind matted hair,
I snarled back. Foxes aren't lonely.
High school brought subtlety:
sex, calculus, exclusion.
I did not understand lip gloss.
Wolves may den together.
A girl-bitch will scavenge love
like a coyote scenting offal.