Lycanthropy
by Briavel, published on October 13, 2004
Freedom.
Grass soft, springy beneath my feet
Moon - full - brilliant in her radiance
Night clear, still and velvety blue
My nose twitches, moist and sensitive
Familiar scent of fear wafts on the breeze.
I run.
My prey leaps forth - hiding now futile
Swift feet barely brush firm turf
Flora and fauna blur into one sequence
Squirrels tense as I close
Shrinking the lead in effortless bounds.
My prey.
Downed at last, we fall together
Warm blood washes my satisfied smile
Dying heart feebly pumps, then stills
Feasting well before my meal cools
Leaving bones for others to pick.
Alone.
I lift my voice in solitary refrain
Mournful howls break the silence
Answering me, echoes are small comfort
Sated in body, though bereft in soul
I return to my den among humanity.
Last update: October 24, 2007
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