poem: the keeper

handed over,
palm to palm, 
one grasp released,
another set of
fingers tighten
in what feels 
like a caress,
warm, dry,
proprietary

mother to 
father, stranger 
to lover, hand
over hand in
ritualistic
rhythm

paint a mural,
show me, actual
size, all of 
the damage a
hand can do

twisted away,
shrugged off,
left behind, the
spine struggles
still, to find
its spiral
balance

how many
sets of
lupine eyes
watch with
interest, the
slow limp
forward, tongue
loose, salivating
for the chance
to be right
about me

the wolf's eye
is painted
yellow, white
squares reflect,
mechanically,
a beckoning
unseen moon