To The Wolf

I indulge in the saccharine words of an unremembered letter,

Written to the Wolf who feeds on my diffidence.  

I endure the gnawing, revel in the uncertainty of free-form chaos. 

You, the Beast, are sentient, sleeping in my soul. 

I continue to compose the mediocre drafts to quell your hunger. 

But for as barbarous as you are,

You give me courage to trudge through these muddy words 

and find virtuous ground on which to rest my feet.