(Artwork Jason Areephituk)
The first time I felt like a wolf
wasn’t when I woke up,
hot and shaking next to some stranger
with long dark hair and a sad look on her face
as if even a dream was an inconvenience.
It wasn’t when I started waking up
next to all kinds of strangers, their bodies
all tangled up in mine, and leaned in closer
to run my finger along the rim of their ear
like some hidden goodbye between two people
who can’t hear each other.
It wasn’t when I woke up next to them and felt
guilty, like I did something wrong, even if only to me,
and one way for me to apologize was to lay there,
long after they left, and give up a day, two days,
to the guilt.
It was when I woke up,
with the hot sun beating down on the spot they had just gotten up from,
and didn’t care.
