Wolf Centos. Simone Muench

Stunned by gold, we see coming

      in full gallop, at vertiginous speed, the last sun,

      frail orbits, green tries, games of stars.

      We are looking for a way to live

      as the she-wolf of these clouds tumbles

      down through stricken dawn-dark, slanting

      through the quadrant seasons, deep

      between vineyard rows. With her teeth

      the she-wolf reaches the blonde braid of a star,

      a thing of gleaming: a radiant evanescence

      the blue dogs paw. Lick the dew

      opening beautifully inside my brain

      where everything is green like quetzal flowers

      or the light in the skull of a bird

      or a thousand tropics in an apple blossom—

      What’s there: the endless clear country road,

      a cold drink before sunset & then a bed.

      We are looking for a way to live.

In the space of a half-open gold door

      your body’s animals want to get out

      running among these rigid hills