Cave Wolves
A she-wolf, spear-dead.
Her cub crawls and whines,
Sucks the fingers of the killer
Weeping over the dying cub.
His mother, breasts aching from a loss
Puts the beast to her milk,
Suckles it till the teeth are thorns,
Presses milk into a bowl,
And so the cub lives,
Sleeps between the she who feeds him,
And Spear-Wolf, the boy who loves him.
Others plot to kill the wolf,
Enemy, here in their cave,
But one long cold time,
No food, hunger, death,
Their white wolf kills a buck–
White fur on white snow, invisible–
He shares, as he would in the pack.
And the cave eats.
One cave in that bad time.
The young live, none killed.
In caves on hills and· heights
News spreads,
A wolf is living in a cave,
A wolf is hunting with the People,
Leaps to kill if the spears fall short,
Turns prey into the spears,
Fights off an attacking wolf.
Soon each cave has its wolf.
When the caves come together
At the mid of the long light
To look each other over, choose mates,
There are more, always more, and hard to count.
Their wolves stand with them, at their knees .
