Song of a Werewolf

I can't explain it. The urge just hit me one night, and I wrote a poem in the mind of a werewolf (as I'd imagine it)

and Death’s clangor spills out in a symphony from your smashed skull

and all the headlights in your eyes split in two,

casting jewelight on the road…

and your belly split just like a log, soft & damp with dew

and the moon, the yellow underbelly, and

hyena’s jaws sobbing into the dirt

and everything fell to focus when

the talons ripped out of my

knuckles, the thickets of hair

clot in my pores, and

everything ripped

open black, everything… and

Your dress was just a summer cotton breeze around you before the blood got out of it

and ate through the threads like fire, twisted furrows in your flesh, holes don’t feel

but taste, all body full and seething in the dark’s heat, my own soul ripped in stringlets

twisted and seeping out onto this black-stain highway beneath

a moon, this, moon, on our nights divided

to sequences of

silence, between the drum

beaten between

my ears, the silence

between that grows

between the hairs

that grow ...

churning, dipping into moonlight

Reviews

[Marshall Hanson]

I love it very vivid details. I could actually picture myself turning into the werewolf.