She has a pocket in the front of her dress
a map a photograph a silver key.
The wolf beside her has forgotten it’s a wolf.
It thinks it is the shadow of a wolf.
Here stories are the fingerbones of stories,
a mother sets her child on the forest floor and disappears,
the father and the grandfather
attend to the antics of a small white dog
the child scoops dried leaves into his lap.
The shadow of the wolf is disguised as a dog.
He pads along the path, looking left to right.
Everything is exactly as it seems.