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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