Poem for Sunday

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: 's Dirty. Aragorn/Eowyn, a pairing I never would have dreamed I could stomach, let alone that I could enjoy. Really well done. And 's The Angle of the Sun -- wonderful, romantic, passionate, slightly angsty but overwhelmingly hopeful Aragorn/Faramir. Oh, and hot.

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.