| InterBoard Poetry Competition | |
| First Place Winner, January 2007 | |
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WOLF DREAMS Laurie Byro (Desert Moon Review) I wasn’t sure what he wanted of me; the ice in winter birches had made the forest slouch into spring. All that winter I peeled and sucked papery bark for the sweet taste. I recognized him from his red tongue, the furtive runs when I entered his dream and we crawled along the forest floor, repenting the dark. I had nothing to bargain with, no deal to make him human. The night was filled with briars and salt. In the summer the air became thick with honeysuckle, slick with mating. Beetles droned in messy beds of clover. We slunk along, weeds stroking my belly. I hadn’t yet decided which life was better. Grass combed the plume of my tail. The nights were crystal sharp. I waggled my slit high, what was left of my breasts pushed into a pile of decaying leaves. Who cared how many and how often, I was not entirely his. Eyes of owls glittered in the sleep of trees, tree frogs sang in a green-robed choir. The moon clamped its yellow tooth into my shoulder. I took the whole night inside. What was to become of us? I had packed away my white Juliet cap and veil for just such an occasion. I held him like a warm peach in my palm, longed for his juice to run down my chin. Most nights I didn’t care about the names they gave me. I held my fingers out to him, felt the tug as my ring fell off, carried my limbs down to the entrance of his den, planted a birch just outside his home as a token of my loyalty. I was free of the chains of consequence. I gave birth to his amber-eyed bastard who without hesitation he devoured. When he becomes old and says he always dreams of me, I shall make myself a meal of him, savor his voluptuous tongue, and suck all the bitterness from his bones. He will not make such promises again. Judge Pascale Petit’s comments: “This poem creates its own world. It made a deep impression on me from the first reading. It’s utterly magical yet I am convinced of its reality, that something important is being vividly communicated. All the senses are employed to persuade me that the emotional heart is true. I can smell and taste it, hear the poem’s heartbeat. It’s hard to write well about sex but this accomplished, elemental fairytale has a considerable erotic charge. The surprise ending adds an extra edge to the intense love affair and mention of a white Juliet cap and veil keep us anchored in the human despite the wolf persona. The language is taut, lush and has a consistent, lulling rhythm. I love ‘the sleep of trees’ and ‘The moon clamped // its yellow tooth into my shoulder. I took the whole / night inside’ which draw me even further under the poem’s spell.”
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