Posted in Poetry

Flies

I am Wolf
      running
      howling
moon growling

grit beneath my feet
bones betwixt my teeth

     Feral

fair all these
bright days
searing nights
sounding before me

tree breath
filling these lungs

lunge
leap
yowling

frame chained
to clock
to desk

yet

soul untethered unleashed

Β© Jilly's Photo & Poem 
All Rights Reserved

Writing Quadrilles over at dVerse!
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Author:

A wild soul writing poetry & fiction while teaching high school literature, all with a camera in tow.

57 thoughts on “Flies

  1. This is delightful! I didn’t see the turn coming, which made it all the better. Thought it was a literal wolf in the woods, which would have been awesome, too; but a wolf chained to the clock, to the desk, though sad, is wonderfully poetic.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. grit beneath my feet
    bones betwixt my teeth

    In the words of that great vocalist from the Ohio Players, “Yow! Gurl!” You tuned into your inner wolf and gave her voice. Full-moon worthy!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. The wild wolf is growling and howling. We’ve done it here, usually just on payday. followed by a certain illness. Yours sounds way more natural. I like the “tree breath” filling his lungs.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I keep reading this over and over, it’s so good! Love how you switched from the images of the wolf running free, to being chained to our work, then acknowledging that our souls still run free. πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

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