Arts + Scene » Poetry

The Hour of the Wolves


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A chill
a ululation
one howl and then another
like a wounded animal
like a caged animal
breaking free in voice
calling out across the neighborhood
lighting the city at dusk
calling out to the fog
to the Bottom
to the hills

Heartache, is it?
but also, "I'm here" and
"I hear you."
We are together in this lonely world.
We sing.

Carolyn Lehman,
May 11, 2020, 8 pm


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