outside every door
there stands
a wolverine
who will barter
dream for dream

in return for your children
& a worn out phrase
he offers a mother's lullabye
written at the bottom
of your glass

he barters
for your questions
your definitions
& offers a palm reading
scribbled indelibly
at the end of your syringe

he devours his spoils
at the foot of your bed
& is satiated by your emptiness

in the quiet of night
he laughs
when you bring your dreams
to the wolverine.