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Wolfish Lullabies
This night upon the witch’s hour
will show true the demons of old.
Howling creatures will arise
consumed by Luna’s controlling glow.
From this bed of black satin
I hear those wolfish lullabies.
Their bays call to my beast,
feverishly craving to join.
To sense that ambrosia of life,
blood metallic upon the air.
My sight becomes feral in time,
tasting the rage within my soul.
Why this night,
on All Hallow’s Eve
must the pregnant pearl
curse my flesh to fur?
