WEBVTT

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Words, she says,
used to be wolves.

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They lined up on
the mountain peaks

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to tell the moon about
the difficulty of climbing

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the slope, the
complacency of the flux,

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and the chaotic movements
of migrating clouds.

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They placed their anger
at the moon's feet

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when it turned the
black book of night,

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went to sleep among the
ranting of the pages which

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spoke of a gold-leafed
country where

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sleep drops into the wells with
its load of turbaned stars.

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But wolves don't
know the Orient.

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Her wolves do.

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[LAUGHTER]

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