04-05-2016, 11:38 AM
When I first heard the scratching at the door
I knew I shouldn’t answer
but I opened it and the night rain growled
and the thunder was my father’s face
in the dark sky and the wolf limped through
smelling like sour milk and old tires,
muddying the carpet with its blooded paws.
He took his place on the couch in the great room.
My daughter’s whimpers shake
her small body as she sits on my lap.
We watch her cartoons together now
on the floor pretending not to notice
the low snarl that gurgles up behind us.
At dinners, we keep the lights low
but the shadows are worse
and the pulse of its lungs scrapes
the air between us. We cannot leave
and we cannot speak of it
for it is one of us now.
I knew I shouldn’t answer
but I opened it and the night rain growled
and the thunder was my father’s face
in the dark sky and the wolf limped through
smelling like sour milk and old tires,
muddying the carpet with its blooded paws.
He took his place on the couch in the great room.
My daughter’s whimpers shake
her small body as she sits on my lap.
We watch her cartoons together now
on the floor pretending not to notice
the low snarl that gurgles up behind us.
At dinners, we keep the lights low
but the shadows are worse
and the pulse of its lungs scrapes
the air between us. We cannot leave
and we cannot speak of it
for it is one of us now.