Russian Grandmother Kills Wolf With Bare Hands & Axe
Left with a bandaged hand and living calf which she calls dumb one and my sweet stroking between its milk eyes, the woman is not surprised to see November fall upon the yard snow steaming from an empty body.
It happened in quiet, rounding a corner to spot the familiar crouch and intention her father’s face snarling at her years later how the first blow slid beneath the shoulder blade how the palm reader said, Do not become red,
how we dig feet in and hold and who will win? She who is called grandmother and neighbor on the next farm over, the lost names of daughter and malyutka. She who licks away fear and closes the gate. This wolf like all wolves this hand a perfect fist in a field of statues.