Camille-Yvette Welsch is a poet and teacher residing in central Pennsylvania. Her work has appeared in the Indiana Review, Mid-American Review, Radar Poetry, The Writer’s Chronicle, Atticus Review, Menacing Hedge, and other venues in addition to serving as reviews editor for Literary Mama. She shares her life with two wily little kids and her fuzzy husband.
Full Starving Moon
Wolf—I was wrong. The spring
is elusive, the hunger real, bone
real as we sweep snow from the steps,
exist on steam and crystalized honey,
the sweet taste of nothing. What bone
rattlers we are, knocking around field
and home, splitting wood, sending
it crackling into the heat. We cannot
stomach more jerky, the sharp hairs
that decorate the root cellar. Have you
been in, trespassed? We are friends only
in spirit, I offer you nothing of store. Wolf—don’t
mistake me—if the hunger sharpens to a knife,
it will land across your throat. With my apologies.