“He went on two legs, wore clothes and was a human being, but nevertheless
he was in reality a wolf of the Steppes.” — Herman Hesse, Steppenwolf
Tableaus of boyhood — usually sun-
Filled moments — don’t include betrayals yet.
My body, lean and lithe, enjoyed moonbeams’
Hypnotic kisses on the windowsills
That honeyed me to sleep, revealing dream’s
Chaotic circus — wolf howls beckoning.
My bed-time story: Aesop’s House-dog said,
“Ah, Cousin, your irregular life will
Soon be the ruin of you!” Gaunt Wolf then saw
A collar, liberty chained, strangled, gone.
The curse condemned me, collared my freedom,
Its brooding eye eradicating will,
The power of familiarity,
Split me like a tree grown heavy from living.
I’d grown attached to my normality.
Now a curse is my custodian. Full moons
Personify nights a reluctant Wolf
Awakens, throat-dark emotions unleashed.
About the Author
Native New Yorker and Elgin Award winner, LindaAnn LoSchiavo is a member of the British Fantasy Society, HWA, SFPA, and The Dramatists Guild — and a spooky Scorpio who loves Hallowe’en. 
Current books: Messengers of the Macabre: Hallowe’en Poems, Vampire Ventures, Always Haunted: Hallowe’en Poems [Wild Ink, 2024], Apprenticed to the Night [UniVerse Press, 2024], and Felones de Se: Poems about Suicide [Ukiyoto Publishing, 2024].
