The Wolverine
By Stewart Brisby
outside every door
there stands
a wolverine
who will barter
dream for dream
in return for your children
& a worn out phrase
he offers a mother's lullabye
written at the bottom
of your glass
he barters
for your questions
your definitions
& offers a palm reading
scribbled indelibly
at the end of your syringe
he devours his spoils
at the foot of your bed
& is satiated by your emptiness
in the quiet of night
he laughs
when you bring your dreams
to the wolverine.
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Brief fic recs:
Post-feminist op-ed from The New York Times: Maureen Dowd proving to me that I really am a man, as I respond much more to so-called male-oriented movies than female-targeted films, and Nora Ephron reminding me that even if I'd been young and clever and working as an intern in JFK's White House, he would not have had an affair with me. I think I am amused.
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