Previous  <<<  See all Published  >>> Next
Previous  <<<  See all Poetry  >>> Next

Poetry by Kate Healey

We Are The Wolves
Published January 7, 2017
Eleventh Transmission. http://eleventhtransmission.com.
Welcome to Eleventh Transmission
CATEGORIES
POETRY
PHOTOS
VISUAL ART
ALL
Resources
Store
Advertising
Submissions
About
Contact
Email Signup
FICTION
SPOKEN WORD
Main Page
This website
©
Kirk Ramdath
and specified artists.
Advertise Here for 1 Year for $50
Wax Poetry and Art Projects
Wax Poetry and Art - Contests
Poetry Contest #12
Socially Engaged Poetry Contest #1
Under 25 Poetry Contest #1
Axil Poetry and Art - Under 25
Eleventh Transmission - Socially Engaged
First Nations Poetry Magazine
Phoenix Photo&Fiction
Wax Poetry & Art International
Weekly Poems
Calgary Poetry Magazine
Edmonton Poetry Magazine
Montréal Poetry Magazine
Ottawa Poetry Magazine
Toronto Poetry Magazine
Vancouver Poetry Magazine
Wax Poetry and Art
Wax Poetry and Art Store

Submit to Eleventh Transmission
Previous<<<  See all Published  >>> Next
Previous  <<<  See all Poetry  >>> Next
Subscribe to Eleventh Transmission
Help us maintain this website, publish more work, and reach more people. Cancel anytime using
your PayPal settings. Make a one-time contribution on the
Subscribe page.
Select type of subscription
Wax Poetry and Art Projects
Poetry, fiction, visual art,
photography, and spoken
word by people under 25
years of age.
Publishes poetry, visual art,
and photography.
Publishes fiction and
photography.
Socially engaged poetry,
fiction, photos, visual art,
and spoken word.
Poetry, visual art, photos,
fiction, and spoken word.
Publishes poetry, visual art,
photography, fiction, spoken
word, music, and film by
residents of Canada.
Calgary Poetry Magazine
Edmonton Poetry Magazine
Montreal Poetry Magazine
Ottawa Poetry Magazine
Toronto Poetry Magazine
Vancouver Poetry Magazine
Poetry by First Nations, Métis,
and Inuit Canadians, Native
Americans, and indigenous
people living around
the world.

We Are the Wolves

We are the wolves, & what is our legacy?
We are the wolves, and what will become of us?
The ulcers converging in our stomachs are as relentless and stress
     induced as forty years ago.
The impeccably decorated and meticulous home does not negate the one in
which you were born.
Nor is it my own.
All of these contradictions born of guilt and scarred over shame
become inflamed like sunburned scar tissue.
The hostility!
The rats in the pantry.
The ceiling caving in, chipping off in toupee sized bits of plaster.
The shit of your schizophrenic brother smeared on the toilet seat.
The cigarettes extinguished in archaic tea cups in the sink.
The piss on the floor.
The smell of molten garbage in the summer heat.
The mason jar of cigarette snipes, a manifestation of Great Depression Era
hoarder mentality.
The babies asleep on burlap mats, repurposed patio chair cushions.
The children’s feet blackened from the bare floor boards, thin like an old
     man’s thighs.
The statues of the Virgin Mother watching all of those devout babies crying.
The hemorrhaging blood of the 8th born.
The baby Jesus himself, framed and hung, witnessing two generations of
mental collapse,
pace up and down the dark hallway, all mumbles and machetes.
Fabric much too thin for winter.
The hairbrushes, belts, stinging singing Hotwheels race tracks raised above
you, poised to descend.
The wolves, the wolves, the wolves.
The pigeons, boarded and dying in the exterior wall.
The beer battered jaundiced eyes balls.
The refused dinner becoming breakfast, cold as lard and the patriarch’s
shoulder.
The mattresses of the third floor, stripped of sheets and adorned with
     cigarette burns:
emblems of shame of the dozing junky.
The band practicing in the basement,
anguish reverberating up through the heating ducts,
as I lay there, four years old, with my eyes fixed on the filth of the
     baseboard,
knowing the sound resonated within me.
Knowing that I was one of the wolves.
Oh the viciousness of resilient love, oh the wolves we do become.


Biography
Kate Healey is a perpetual pedestrian who spends most of her time
wandering the woods with her dog and a notebook.