Childhood Lost

by Teresa Cain

I left my house a child;
I died much older...
wiser...
sadder as I saw my childhood
at an end.
The wolf taught me this.
His quick smile...
Charming words...
Lying tongue...
He showed the pretty path
He never said what lay on it.
I found my grandmother's house
after time
Found a wolf in her bed
Found the meat I ate...
The wine I drank
was my own flesh and blood.
But I followed his silver tongue
Burned my cloak...
Burned my dress...
Climbed into bed to warm my young
body against fur that smelled
of green...
of musk...
of blood...