Delicious Love

I remember the cat with her crooked teeth
and the wolf with teeth like jagged pearls

who ate her.

And I loved the wolf for his hunger,
his honesty, without plate or fork
or napkin or insincerity.

Who knows what the wolf
will consume next-  the unmoving stars,
the watchful moon, the lazy cow sleeping

in the field, the crazy fox chasing
roosters like children playing tag
on a warm afternoon.

Nothing really disappears
even when it should.  The most important
thing is love-  and who says love
isn't love even if it tastes good?

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