The Most Dangerous of All
My gentle wolf, did I tell you that I dreamt of you the other night? But I was afraid. I did not recognise you, I thought you wanted to eat me up because that’s all wolves ever want us for, eating. Or that’s what I thought, was taught. We fought and I woke on us teeth-bared, almost meeting nose to nose, your two paws cuffed by my hands. And I thought for a moment you moved to kiss me. I thought that maybe those great teeth would part in a smile. My crocodile. You whisper sweet words; soft skin, silk fur beneath. My turn-skin. My gentle wolf. Don’t fight me; I woke with two words on my lips, bite me.