How to Cook a Wolf

If your mother’s like mine wanting you honeyed and blithe you’ll get cooked by getting evicted since the mothers can teach with a dustpan the tons of modes of tossing. And the fathers will lift your eyes too-early-too-open: the fathers can creep up on anything when it’s still too wet to cloister with their weeping and strand you like a seed or cook at the carnivals with the can-do caroling and storefronts and foodstuffs and annulments and Scotch and off-handed fucking and walking out and moving on until they’re cooking the drift of you wanting a whole bayou up in you and cooking and cooking the gist of you needing your crannies hot with a good man’s body-silt until your head is stuffed with a pining for diapers and the most minuscule spoons made mostly of silver and Ajax too and Minwax Oh in this the dumbstruck story of the American female as a cut of terracotta and some kindling in a dress while howling at the marrow of the marrow of the bone.