Wolf-Boy

You were never infected, or cursed.
The wolf has always been inside,
curled up in your craw, waiting
for a hand to coax him out.

There was dirt beneath my nails
when I reached and you ran wild, hair loose
on the wind, growl growing in your throat
until you could not hold it back.

We still can hear that howl, claiming
territory in the night - a bark that sounds
more and more like a declaration in the dark:
this is who I am.