Could Have Danced All Night
The wolf appointed to tear me apart
is sure making slow work of it.
This morning just one eye weeping,
a single chip out of my back and
the usual maniacal wooden bird flutes
in the brain. Listen to that feeble howl
like having fangs is something to regret,
like we shouldn’t give thanks for blood
thirst. Even my idiot neighbor backing out
without looking could do a better job,
even that leaning diseased tree or dream
of a palsied hand squeezing the throat but
we’ve been at this for years, lying exposed
on the couch in the fat of the afternoon,
staring down the moon among night blooms.
What good’s a reluctant wolf anyway?
The other wolves just get it drunk
then tie it to a post. Poor pup.
Here’s my hand. Bite.
Copyright @ 2014 by Dean Young. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-a-Day on August 6, 2014.
About this Poem
“I wrote this poem after being sick for a couple days and realizing I had yet again survived. So it's about the sort of cockiness one has about still being alive.”
Largely influenced by the New York School of poets, Dean Young combines aspects of experimentation and surrealism in his poems.
Date Published: 2014-08-06
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/could-have-danced-all-night