The Little Red Truth
I was a red bird burning
through the forest, the last moon
behind me, the wolf at my heels.
The forest is a voiceless place.
But how the sound of fast feet
stirring snow in the dark can exhume
the quick thoughts of childhood
before a mother’s warning.
who can outrun a wolf?
Even if they wanted to.
His paws, I tell you,
hardly moved the powder.
of an old woman
goes down hard
but stirs hot in the belly.
Kristin Stoner has been an instructor of English at the college level for the past ten years. She received her MA in Literature and Creative Writing from Iowa State University and in 2008 graduated from Antioch University LA with her MFA in poetry. Some of her recent publications include Natural Bridge and Review Americana.