SARAH CARLETON

★ ★ ★ ★

POETRY

Image by Jack Catterall

Among Wolves

After a boy and his pack held me facedown in the snow
so I couldn’t breathe, I understood that a football field 
was an expanse only crossable when streaked

with teenagers or rows of college players skipping sideways
and a grove of slim white birches with no visible humans
might as well be a pit of lava to tiptoe around. 

I added an extra mile to my trip home from school
to avoid ambush, taking a route lined with moms
and driveways, but my feral feet 

couldn’t stay away from forest trails and hilltops.
Walking alone on side streets, I learned 
to repel attention by wrapping myself in a hooded yellow 

slicker of disdain bright enough to burn their canine eyes, 
and I never set forth without my shark daemon 
gliding alongside me like an airship with teeth.

Sarah Carleton writes poetry, edits fiction, tutors English, plays the banjo, and makes her husband laugh in Tampa, Florida. Her poems have appeared in numerous publications, including Cider Press Review, Nimrod, Chattahoochee Review, Tar River Poetry, Crab Orchard Review, and New Ohio Review. Her first collection, Notes from the Girl Cave, was recently published by Kelsay Books.

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