Wolves in the City

March 18, 2017

They trail about, packraiding

In the hardest part of winter,

Rifling through unmanned inheritances

And claiming hearts as they lie 

Newly emerged, in the wild

Where nothing is sacrosanct


They gnaw her flesh clean

Gaze up secondarily, red teeth bared, 

Eyes flaked by the fresh fallings:

Something in that blue sphere echoes back


You awake with blood on your tongue


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© 2018 by Bread & Circuses Press. 

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