17 wolves
some with heads
some with no heads
I found them in a box
tucked under the stairs
that lead down
to the basement
no one ‘d been down there
in years from the look
I set my candle
on the floor beside me
then put my hands through webs
to get at the box
spent another minute or two
feeling things crawl on me
the box was nailed shut
with one small nail at either end
the lid, when removed
broke in two with a tired snap
inside it smelled of earth
damp, musty, indecent
with what my father would
have called “reckless abandon”
I plunged my hands down
felt the fur, matted and stringy
touched something sticky
along the bottom
just then the basement door
slammed shut
the candle blew out
I felt a breath against my neck
/ / /
Jason Crane
5 October 2014
Oak Street
Note: The title and first stanza of this poem are taken from a tweet by saxophonist and artist John Lurie, of whom I’ve been a fan since I was a teenager.
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