Young Wolves

Running up from the railroad tracks, crossing the bridge,
no cars on the avenue except mine. Five in the morning,
two wolves, one car, one woman.
I drive slowly in the dark, hit my brakes,
gray fur fluttering as they run in front of my car,
as the wind blows from the south, gives them something
mild and invisible to run into. Child wolves,
get out of the city before sunrise, consider the times
we live in. Keep running.

Author of the article

Deborah Keenan is the author of ten collections of poetry, and a book of ideas to write from, from tiger to prayer, from broadcraft press. Her newest poems are in Clackamas Literary Review, their 20th Anniversary collection, and forthcoming in fall, 2017, in Water~Stone Review. These two poems in Midway Journal are from her new manuscript, The Saint of Everything. She has just retired from teaching in the MFA Program at Hamline University, after twenty-nine years, and continues to teach at The Loft, and privately. She lives in beautiful, mysterious St. Paul.