raised by wolves // travis stephens

my mother is dying
breathing labored, forced
to seek a cool den
the damp earth a refuge
a hole.
We wait nearby, my brothers
who won’t look me in the eye
each watching the wall,
who will be next?
A glance away
let the loud
snarl murderous thoughts
while we others
carry the grudge.

I shiver, understand as always
my teeth rotted and dull.
Even my father, that son of a bitch,
kept his bite until the end.
I was always ignored
last to marrow
filching bits from
other’s old kills.
earn your keep.

We are a large litter
six males, one female.
My wife, baby girl,
always the cute one,
marveled at my brothers
“you have the same eyes,
and the nieces too”.

I’d like to believe
the next generation
is tamer, a little more wag
a little less bite.
But I have seen the way
their own young
start at noises, regard
new puppies with more
than affection.
I have begun to eye small houses.
I don’t need much;
a bowl, a patch of sunlight
& dirt walls closing in.

Travis Stephens is a tugboat captain who resides with his family in California. web: zolothstephenswriters.com