‘Wolf’ by Keki Daruwalla

Fire-lit

half silhouette and half myth

the wolf circles my past

treading the leaves into a bed

till he sleeps, black snout

on extended paws.

Black snout on sulphur body

he nudged his way

into my consciousness.

Prowler, wind-sniffer, throat-catcher,

his cries drew a ring

around my night;

a child's night is a village

on the forest edge.

My mother said

his ears stand up

at the fall of dew

he can sense a shadow

move across a hedge

on a dark night;

he can sniff out

your approaching dreams;

there is nothing

that won't be lit up

by the dark torch of his eyes.

The wolves have been slaughtered now.

A hedge of smoking gun-barrels

rings my daughter's dreams.