[Adolf, lucky wolf.] Poem by Erik Spinoy

Adolf, lucky wolf.

Fabricated black alpha male
who throws himself on sexy hordes,
the overhealthy pack's fornicators.

Uncle wolf, jackbooted cosiness:
the black axis around which oiled
and bloodwarm our life rotates.
Worshipped grail of our uniqueness:
the eyes closed, the ears laid down,
our chest nearly touches the ground.

But that was once.
Today every wolf buys his BMW,
Defender, Porsche or Chevy Corsica
and badgers his fellow wolf.

Like looks like boldly in the face.

The battle and homeliness transferred
to the ghostly man-to-man fight
at markets, air-conditioned, roofed.

Translated by: Peter Nijmeijer