To hear the close distance, your howl, when unable to find one cold sliver of moon. I opened warm window. This frozen stuck body of me shifting over to what it must be in a house made of worry and flammable things. When survival is one hungry beast lighting fires fast as bear claws unleashed in this box of a house, any house, to find food, any food, feed that soul hungry beast eating sliver of moon cooling fire on face of a moment of hard-assed especially sweet stuff, any life. I listen for line to connection. Hear hot pulse of warm blood, surprisingly bright, bursting through like great wolf shedding cloak of sheep's clothing is this, yawping call I can't see, only feel coming back like a boomerang self to wild safety, close distance, raw sound of one howl howling now.
Roseanna Frechette is a longtime member of Denver’s thriving bohemian underground. Spoken word performer and host as well as multi-genre writer, her work has featured at art galleries, rock stages, and festivals including Poetry Rodeo, Boulder Fringe, and Arise as well as indie publications including Stain’d, Lummox, Semicolon, and Suspect Press. Former publisher of Rosebud Forum magazine, and one of Westword’s Colorado Creatives, Roseanna holds great passion for the power of small press and the beauty of literary originality.
This poem is from the Thought For Food anthology,
a poetry collection benefiting Denver Food Rescue.
You can purchase a copy of the book here.
South Broadway Ghost Society 