​domestication

Poetry by ​JeFF Stumpo 

domesticate, v. 1630s, of animals, “convert to domestic use, tame, bring under control...”

There was, before tales were told
around a fire, a human
who waited at one
and held out a piece of meat,
and out of the forest came
a wolf, and the wolf
took the offering

There is a tale, after tales were told,
that the human died years later,
and out of the human
came a last rattling breath,
and out of the wolf
came a whine, and the wolf,
having forgotten how to hunt,
starved, muzzle nuzzled
into this strange member of the pack

But there is another story,
that the wolf died first,
and the human’s heart starved,
and out of the human came
a howl at the moon
in remembrance

This, that tale goes,
is how we learned to speak,
because the moon would not answer
unless we yowled in her children’s tongue

This, that tale goes,
is how we took the wild into our muzzles
and out came the first words,
which, if the translators are right,
were something like please
wait for me
on the moon,
offer her
our story, our strange friendship,
remember that for each other
we gave up
control

JeFF Stumpo 

JeFF Stumpo is an author of five chapbooks of poetry (most through Seven Kitchens Press) and a spoken word album, a winner of the Subnivean Award for Poetry (judged by Major Jackson), and his work has recently appeared or is forthcoming in such places as Rattle, The Journal, DMQ Review, RHINO, and ANMLY. He is a survivor of psychosis and PTSD, husband to a PhD chemist, and father to an amazing trans child.