Susan Daniels Poetry

i don’t want blood enough.
maybe it’s the mixing–
i wouldn’t mind smearing mixed
with soil or mud into a river
but is that enough?
am i dirt animal enough
to call myself wild, to pretend
i feel planted when
i have both feet
on the ground?

i want to be the girl with the wolf
in her teeth.

how can you know me
when i am not her
not tearing apart fear
in the forest
white flashes of teeth or the smell
of broken roan fur?

i do not forgive him for hunting me,
he should not expect it.

he should wonder then
when the killing season comes
why
i have been merciful
in singing his death song
loud
so he can expect dirt in his teeth–
the girl with blood on her arms.

arms are just arms, i can’t lay
mine like a track
around the country that…