Wednesday, 18 July 2007
Knit purl one knit two together… I pull my pelt around me and go hunting. I can be grey as a cloud or I can be tawny. At twilight I roam to tear up the world with my huge claws. I’m not a girly girl I’m a womanly woman, you just made a big mistake, I’m the red riding wolf that faced the wolf. Atavistic? Liminal? Fantasy? Possibility? When the snow comes… red for danger when the wolves come. The hunger of your life. When you are neither one thing nor the other. How can you keep the night out, when it wants so much to come in? Some wolves are hairy on the inside. And up the chimney went the red shawl that my Granny knitted me, catching fire on the way, whoosh! Look! Like a bird with flaming wings.