All We iWolves
—a VR blush
She’s not visiting; she’s moving in—
listens from her hunkered launch,
watches from the deepest pitch—
and leaps into my throat like a scared heart.
We soon lean together into the lit screen.
Beneath, the motherboard bleats in
her woolen coat, spun from the dust of nightly
clicks and visits: pages of nameless laid
bare before our returning hunger.
The pelt we share, now wet, and no plea:
the farms hiding their red: one more hen,
one more surprised sow to bury
with our muzzle. We steam the risen sheet of fog—
honed teeth, chinned tongue, and delirious.
We taste the oily veins burst,
thick with pre-dawn’s slopped trough—
filleted sclera seeps its spent humor.
The gnaw of bone until it splinters,
into its piano-key sharps and shards,
is a barren stomach seeking some
melody in the drenched hum of hunger.
We press our face into the grass
and push it along—first the right side,
then the left. Dried of wet dead,
we huff and snort, and howl for this
new weight inside.
Tardy carnivores peer from the perimeter,
beyond range: fear-weathered ears—
still, we push away from this raw carcass
and reel in the burden, pure as beasts: stagger
from what remains: a limp frame: soon,
cleaned and left to bleach.
Author Bio: Josh Lowder
Josh received his Poetry MFA from College of Charleston in 2018, where he won the First Crazyhorse MFA Poetry Prize, has contributed at Sewanee Writers Conference, road-managed bands like Fu-Manchu, and appeared for Adult Swim in ‘Too Many Cooks’.