by J.I. Kleinberg
sometimes I just want to shake myself like a wet dog
free myself of the cloying scent of apathy
loosen my bones from their stiffening grip
sometimes I want to vault into the air
all four feet off the ground in a twisting leap
unfold my myth-hound wings to soar from gravity’s grasp
sometimes I want to lie within the familiar of my tail
perfumed pulse of fur and heat curled round
my littered kin my napping dreams
sometimes I want to gnaw away this collar of humanity
find my feral essence rubbed on bark
and bark and bark into the moon-disked night
sometimes I want to lean forepaws against your chest
and lick your bristled cheek your neck your ear
until you stroke my ruffled fur and croon it’ll be all right it’ll be all right
— from Juniper Volume 2, Issue 1