The beginnings of a wildfire, near Sunland, CA
Actually…
…before she grew up in a barn, she was raised by wolves.
Her hair's a mess, but she has a fine big voice.
You can hear her down the street howling out Mahler
with something of an accent. Sends a shiver up the spine.
She was a wild child, looking out into the moonlight,
snarling and nipping if someone interrupted.
School wasn't easy, what with the biting and the fleas.
No one has ever been trapped so long and survived.
She woke with the chickens, she slept with the cats.
Their smells kept her safe with the other animals.
People in the house made horn-signs, spat to avert her.
Their every sigh drew drops of blood.
This brought bad luck. If you stumble as you go,
you are not welcome, and she never stepped right,
as sure as dancing, not even once.
Play her the song. Maybe she'll sing.
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