Because his ears peak
and the hackles still rise
at the sound of a fight,
his or not,
and because no bitch passes
however far downwind
without pulling his nose
into the breeze
to gauge the days remaining
between her and her heat,
because lame as a beggar,
he cannot run in the pack
with his sons
without running lead,
and because, out all night
and coming home wet
& matted with excrement,
he still expects to be petted,
The werewolf’s wife
is forced to conclude
that a beast grows old
but he never grows up.
©WILLIAM JOHN WATKINS
William John Watkins 