Wolf Girl
By James King

we were little villains. 
we learned our evil day by day. 
we thought if we touched you 
we’d get clumps of fur in our fingers. 
you said your eyes were two different colors—
it’s called heterochromia you said—
but when i looked at them they both were brown. 
your howl was muted 
because the moon was gone. 
a human throat can’t compare to the wild thing. 
a human throat is built for laughter. 
i knew. we hosted elections every recess 
for fun. we cast you 
as red riding hood’s grandma 
in our fairy tale play. 
kickballs spun the field like planets. 
once, when i was up to kick, 
i stepped on the ball instead 
and thought the rubber would bounce me into the sky. 
this was the moment i’d practiced for,
jumping off jungle gyms, 
making fwoosh-fwoosh noises with my mouth. 
then i landed. got tagged out. 
i wanted to love you because 
i thought no one else would.
i told you i was a vampire 
but then walked out of the tree-shade into the sun
and you said i didn’t have the focus 
or commitment. i hear from everyone 
but the ones i want to. everyone 
either dead or in real estate, 
engagement photos under power pylons, 
weddings in nondenominational churches, 
sweet hairless children. 
i’m in my office now, not doing the work 
i’m supposed to do, ferociously googling. 
habitat North American wolf. 
lifespan North American wolf. 
North American wolf survival possible 
in the world we made yes or no. 

---

James King holds an MFA in Poetry from UNCW and serves as Poetry Editor for Bear Review. A Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize nominee, his work has appeared in The Boiler, ONE ART, Passages North, The Shore, and others. He lives with his partner in New Hampshire, where he works in college admissions and plays viola in a community orchestra.

---

Artwork Source: “Lupine,” Kate Efimochkina

Kate Efimochkina is a writer and artist. You can see her work in Stone Circle Review, Lamp Lit, The Turning Leaf Journal, among others. She is the founder and editor of Odd Lobster.