Ask It If It’s Hungry

See the sky as Novoneyra

Saw it wolved, starred night as a mouth

With every shadow in those teeth.

Perhaps this is hubris for wolves,

Another human projection

Of minor earthly characters

Into local constellations,

But perhaps the night is a wolf—

Certainly it’s ultimately

The night responsible for wolves

And for language, and for poets

Who look up and sense predation.