The wolves have finally come to me for advice. Avoid making eye contact with saints & ranchers, I say. Stick to the suburbs where no one else goes to hunt. The wolves are tired; their tongues glisten like red silk ties. In the window of the building opposite, a white cat levitates on a sudden carpet of arms. The Daily Mail headline reads, IS YOUR CHILD A PSYCHOPATH? IT’S MORE COMMON THAN YOU THINK. My love has taken five sharp sticks & begun to knit me a sock. What big toenails you have, she says.