Feral Child of Nowhere: Cecile Forman

April 16, 2020 Kate Belew With Cecile Forman (San Francisco)

Skipping along walls of scissor-cut shadows,

A tender wolf, I am patient with myself today

and merely follow the dim-lit path of reason

as if light fractured through water, a meander 

never catching the long-snouted dragon cloud

a foxglove of sorts, a paper doll 

skips, shabbily dressed, feral child of nowhere

and I know that feeling. The feeling that asks 

of me to whisper my bark rather than howl it.