#david mcduff

The wolf-fanged age hurls itself at my shoulders but I am no wolf by my blood, rather stuff me like a hat in the sleeve of the Siberian steppes' warm overcoat

that I may not see the coward, the soft bits of flesh, nor the bloody bones in the wheel, that all night the blue polar foxes may shine to me in their primal beauty.

Take me away into the night where the Yenisei flows and the pines grow to the stars, because I am no wolf by my blood, and only my equal will kill me.

Much like me, you make your way forward, Walking with downturned eyes. Well, I too kept mine lowered. Passer-by, stop here, please. Read, when you've picked your nosegay Of henbane and poppy flowers, That I was once called Marina, And discover how old I was. Don't think that there's any grave here, Or that I'll come and throw you out ... I myself was too much given To laughing when one ought not. The blood hurtled to my complexion, My curls wound in flourishes ... I was, passer-by, I existed! Passer-by, stop here, please. And take, pluck a stem of wildness, The fruit that comes with its fall -- It's true that graveyard strawberries Are the biggest and sweetest of all. All I care is that you don't stand there, Dolefully hanging your head. Easily about me remember, Easily about me forget. How rays of pure light suffuse you! A golden dust wraps you round ... And don't let it confuse you, My voice from under the ground.