Because into the woods I’ve been
Into the woods I’ve been
shots of lubricant
senses left to hang as paintings
Legs were fuckers – steadfast.
Voice was sucker – saccharine.
Into the woods, can’t say I lied about the wolves; can’t say I told the truth about them either.
Perhaps one day I’ll cry wolf when the wolf is here.
ULULA was first published on Rat’s Ass Review, Winter 2017 Issue, 10/12/2017
Many thanks to Roderick Bates, editor of Rat’s Ass. Without him, this poem wouldn’t be what it is.
©️ Basilike Pappa 2017