Are We Not All Wolves, Women?
A feminist poem by LA Markuson
Hear this poem read out loud on Soundcloud, or scroll down to read with your keen eyes.
Are we not all wolves, women?
The scent of blood
(our own or our sisters)
Would quake red fists in ivory cages,
The sight of our big moon
Would be more like sun
Burning through shutters.
Someone told us the wolf is lonely.
The wolf is a solitary silhouette
lucky to find a friend, let alone
to find a family.
“The wolf is doomed,” they say.
Hunting and hunted
Pursuing and pursued.
Her howls are wails
Her sorrow is that moon
Her sleep is dreamless,
I say the wolf
Is a sweet and fearsome dog
A loyal bloody hound
Moving an enormous current
Some are too numb to feel
You may only see her and her million sisters
When they reveal themselves to you
At high noon or midnight
They know where they’re going- Do you?
Arctic forest ancient past achingly rich jungle breeze by
They travel on the scent
of something you’ll never sense
Deeper and more worthy than all the
You could ever dream
They lick their wounds and each other’s
And sleep deep sleeps of dreams too bright
Who does not know
In preparation for the women’s march on January 21st, I’ve been working on a corresponding feminist wolf woman Spotify playlist too. Let me know who should be added, and enjoy. I hope it fills you with strength and power.