The wolves had been quietly marking our territory
for their own
with the urine of our blood and
the scat of our bodies.
Letting us know
this place was theirs.
I had learned from my father’s many books
that the world was big.
How much could wolves need?
Want?
Demand?
They moved with a confidence
as sharp as their teeth,
covering many square miles.
We didn’t know yet
(and some would never know)
that we were not the only ones.
Others
from nearby towns
had met with the same fate.
We forgave ourselves
for not knowing.
We’d never thought to study wolves.
Had no idea how horrible they could be.
They were bullies transformed into beasts.
Yes,
there were rumors,
but even my father,
so like Solomon,
could not have imagined such evil.