I Hold the Wolf by the Ears

By C.T. Salazar

It is 1995 and a gunshot has big-

banged inside the courtroom where my mother


is working. I am three, and two rooms over

where everything is set to sudden motion—


carousel of over-turned chairs and falling books.

Panic, like the city of Gubbio where citizens


for months were trapped behind their gates

because of a man-eating wolf. His jury of teeth


lawless and gleaming like the stainless steel

of the revolver smuggled into the courthouse.


In my three-year-old heart fear made room

for itself for the first time. The hammer falling


like a gavel. The bullet traveled from the audience

to the wall behind the witness stand, but


not before scything through the chest of a man

pleading guilty. The courtroom gone feral:


the full moon of the mind where screams blend

to a single howl. A woman ran from the audience


to the empty-chested man still in the chair.

Head back and mouth open—face still wet


with the tears of confession. How she took him

into her arms the way Saint Francis accepted


the wolf of Gubbio into his. How she cried

the same words of the saint—O my brother of god why?

One thought on “I Hold the Wolf by the Ears

  1. Hello there friend! The next time I read a blog, I hope that it doesnt disappoint me as much as this one. I mean, I know it was my choice to read, but I actually thought youd have something interesting to say. All I hear is a bunch of whining about something that you could fix if you werent too busy looking for attention. Again thanks alot for this!

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