Writers Corner
Writers Corner seeks to nurture the creative written word of WolfLab members, and other wolf allies. Short stories, poems, and essays are all welcome. We intend to publish work by new and seasoned writers alike in our online forum and offer these artists a range of support and encouragement. Are you a wild writer looking to be published on our forum? Get in touch with us.
Riddle
Sculptors say the figures live in the clay,
that the marble tells them
what it wants to be.
Poets say no such things.
They know not
where the words come from.
The blank page does not tell
only asks to be filled,
and the poem is an answer in itself-
a riddle to be solved.
-Maya Bobrove
Stuck
The dust accumulates
in the corners where walls meet,
It's a little past eight
and you still smell like the streets.
You say we fight,
and maybe tonight,
when I roll my tiny body too far from yours,
you might ask me why
I recede and I cry;
But chances are you'll be aching
and you will be sore.
Searching hard
to find a little more
skin under the sticky hot sheets;
I guess I lost the receipt
that proves I owe you nothing.
Your finger tries to follow
my bodies latitude;
I thank you for not touching me
and you welcome my gratitude.
-Audrey Paquette
Eat the Imposter
The wolf will eat the imposter right out of you.
The scent of a lie, sweet as a high - entices her.
The shifty mask, the trickster laugh - no match for her.
Blood, sweat, and tears will pull your fears out of you,
but the wolf will be rougher.
She will gnaw through illusion and eat it raw.
She will devour, pick clean, and leave you - if you’re lucky - pure.
-Maya Bobrove
No Hands
Just when I think I have it all figured out,
She words it differently.
She lets go of ego
and studies her own heartbeat-
Pitter patter.
but
Rather
Than give up her grit
She sees a window
She sees a door
A whole football field
Of opportunity.
She takes her human fragility,
Tucks it into her back pocket
And goes for a ride.
Look ma,
No hands.
-Audrey Paquette