She sees a girl knelt on a rumpled bed
about to be deflowered by a wolf
with Grandmama inside, and is afraid:
that it will hurt, that she will disappoint,
that Father will arrive with axe in hand
before it’s done; sentiments that the Wolf
would share (although no pain might disappoint)
if he could think: but O the trembling bed
holds him completely, and the task in hand
has made him quite forget to be afraid
of where outside the window Father’s hand
hovers above the axe. “Unlike a Wolf,
fathers can so easily disappoint
daughters.” he thinks and, horribly afraid
of acting, wishes himself back in bed.
Actors and audience: Grandmama, afraid
of what ingestion’s bought her to; the bed
violent, rhythmic, still; the cautious hand
trying to disengage the swollen wolf:
how could such an engagement disappoint?
It’s what comes afterwards can disappoint,
and all too soon the girl steps from the bed
saying: “I’ve got to go now, Mr. Wolf”.
Then what power is it makes her feel afraid
and shiver as the red tongue licks her hand,
makes her no more afraid to disappoint,
the Wolf now come to every lover’s bed,
eat from her hand?