The Same Chance Everyone Else Has, I Gather

Shopping through used book stores many years back, I stumbled across the book Werewolf and Other Poems by David Hall - signed and everything.   So I parted company with $3.95 and took it home. I enjoy the title poem quite a bit - have for years now - so I thought I'd share.

As for poor David Hall...I don't know that he ever published another book of work, but I hope the best for him, as I do for us all.

Werewolf

I'm never closer to myself
than on the morning after
having ravaged a neighborhood
party:

old Hairshirt
lathered beneath a neat
knit suit
waking to the sour cotton taste
of destruction on my tongue.

What did I say?
Today the lady down the street
sniffs by me
on her side of the walk.

I dare to pass for human.

I'm never further from myself
than on the awful morning after

blood stale on my teeth.

Under the influence
who was devoured?

But now at high noon
that same witched moon
still bangs at my wrist
beneath a dull watchtick
of incalculable efficiency.

O lady down the street
I stalk myself:
you're free.

This carcass on my breath
is only me.