there’s an itchy desperation making us all edgy. we rock on the balls of feet with cold sweats breaking out. we live vicariously and we are in need. there’s a pause – he’s taunting us, drawing it out, making sure we will remember how much this pause this suspension this wait hurts. then, furry head and mane dip below silk covers, muzzling white throat. blood spurts and we relax, laughing. a white figure writhes. the wolf head rises brown and grey, thick red teeth licked by a lolling red tongue. we slip into the dark free until the next moon.