The Wolves

Listen to these words,
There are wolves in the woods
Up to no good
And their tails
Are alive in the air,
The cold wind blowing
Has sown its doubts
And the thieves
Are sat down tossing coins.

Collect up my whispers
And arrange a tight sentence,
Make sure that it makes sense,
We are living like whistles
Through bushes
Our separate missions,
We pretend they’re just thoughts,
Loose transitions.

Position yourself by my side,
If we listen to gossip
We’ll be lost like the prophets
Who said we would one day be kings,
Nobody knows
What is best left alone,
What is house, what is home,
Why we come, why we go,
Flowing like rivers of bones,

As the groans of the wolves
Match our moans.


3 Responses to “The Wolves”

  1. I like the rhythm here. a stricter structure suits your style.

  2. dunstancarter Says:

    Thanks for all your comments Ben. Some good feedback there that I’ll take onboard. A couple of the poems you like less are newer and could probably do with a couple more drafts if the truth be told. Cheers.

  3. I like it, Dunstan! Seems as though it might have been prophetic.

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