Wolf Boy

Maria Ouspenskaya
—for Anne Sexton

I travel a lot—I’m Gypsy you know
Haunting the Black Forest—Transylvania
I’ve been rumored—to fly a broom
Hitchhiking the moon—when full
But such evil dreams—aren’t for me

My worry is for—my werewolf son
That’s why we hit—the road so much
He’s not a man—when Wolfbane blooms
But I’m still—his concerned mother
That’s why I say—prayers for his kind

Bela howls—at the orange full moon
Deranged—misunderstood Wolfboy
Only 18-years-old—so very handsome
With his wolfish hair—in a ducktail
I keep him locked up—in the back

Riding thru villages—and towns
Bela waves at girls—going by
If they only knew—what he really
Likes to do—bite their thighs
Not ashamed—to dine

No comments: