My son howls at the fox. I guess
the long snout is enough, the body
we associate with a dog, doggish,
even the terrier next door throws
back his head, howling at us when
we come close. I always feel like
it’s an invitation, over the fence,
the vulnerability of the neck, and I
learned wolves howl to rally, to unite.
I can imagine that a silent pack would
be quicker to disband than one that
offered themselves like that, throats
bared, always saying to each other,
Me too, me too.