Trying to Talk with a Werewolf

by The Bare-Fanged Contessa

OUT IN THE FOREST you are scenting prey,
that's why we're here, apparently
.

My enhanced senses sense an artery
flowing between us, screaming its way
between hunchbacked mountains
galloping madly like lathered horses
toward eternal damnation. . .
. . . emerging from this forest
whose pines were meant to echo
with our unnatural coition but
now just ring deadly dull

A lot like your conversation

I should have known better
Stick to the glittery familiar,
the vampire sisters said,
kicking over coffin lids—
& now I know they were right
I would have had more fun
biting wrists at the rave
You mention the villagers

whine about the torches, the silver
we psychically share escape plans
— hidden clothes, secreted casket —
yet you eye me like a Thanksgiving menu

Your snout fur bites like stubble
your wet nose is another thing
cold and rough on the wrong spot: STOP
You musk among the mushrooms
howling about the villagers
as if they weren't
me & you

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