The Wolf at Two A.M.

Snapped awake 

again, hail him with a smile and a slap

on his frizzled back.  

He has come to remind-- 

anxiety is a favorite cousin

of being alive.  Breathe his hot breath

till it blends with your own.  

Ask permission to lick his snout.

Will he cower you into terror?

Will he tear you to shreds?

Escort him to your kitchen.  

Whip up a meal,

whatever he wants.  When you can look 

unflinching in his piercing eyes, when so close 

you see his jagged teeth are 

your edge, you are close.  

Open a bottle of wine.

Toast, clink glasses, laugh.

Belly laugh until dawn’s breaking light.

If not this dark night then another.