In the blue veined hours of the night I felt

the house shift, woke to see he was missing

from his side of the bed, I dressed in the dark.

Found the front door ajar and followed outside.

Difficult breath. Ice cloaked the pavement, ten

minutes wandering under the moon until next to

a snowbank I found him crouched over the dead

body of a fox, where he sat unhearing. Felt

something watch

me, while watching him, who watched the

fox, who watched back. When I grabbed him the

disorientation did not resolve itself, saw his face

slip somewhere under the snow. I thought of the

signals animals flash to one another, arched back,

hackles, teeth in a snarl, a warning. The dark grew

darker. I considered pulling his jaw open to see

what had crawled down his throat, the night pressed

into us, I cannot say how but

we made it home. Tucked

under covers and listened to the strange sounds

of winter, them dreamt he was crouching over

my body, lunar tones of teeth and eyes filled with

my reflection. I woke to a scraping sound, found him

on all fours next to the bedpost, dragging his nails

across the wooden floor—

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