Thick socks

that my grandma made for me

from wool

I see them lying on

the rug at

the foot of the bed

and they look like the heads

of wolves in

waiting

waiting in the snow

behind bushes

dry with frost

I grab them

and slide them down my fists

like gloves

I have wolf heads for

hands

And I start punching things

and grabbing them and shredding

them with the fangs

the blanket

the tablecloth

the pillow

my knees

yet in my fantasy I can’t decide what

happens when the

wolf head hands

meet each other

Do they fight

and bite each other?

Or do they cuddle and lick?

Luckily I don’t have to

find the answer. My

grandma opens the door and yells

for me to come

out already. It’s time for school.

Yes, despite anything I thought back

then, I do miss…