She Wolf

 
I lean to arch & crane my back & neck  
To gaze up at the moon’s thick facial scars  
From war clubs of the Inca and Aztec  
In ceremony’s flight to reach the stars.  
 
A she wolf on a ridge from where I pause  
Looks up beseechingly into the night,  
Her bristled fur, the digging in of claws  
Will marrow forth its bone into moonlight.  
 
The scene reminded me when I was born;  
It was the mother Moon that is the same  
And here I look upon its she-wolf form  
Of which I suckled milk and live its name.  
 
I know she senses me, her shadow One,  
As in the desert breezes hears my breath.  
As like so many times she’s often done,  
Gives out a longing cry & stares ahead.