Caught in the Embrace of a Wolf

Lone wolf.

Color lacking with his darkened grey.

Skin coat

Stretched so tight across his vigilant brow today.

Tick - Tock.

Wait for night.

Tiny football eyes like fireflies

Guide his way.

Two spoons of agile cunning.

One cup of razor wit.

Three moonrays from above.

Search lights for a drop of your blood... like mine.

In time... In time, he runs...

Path of jungle

Leaves you prone to stealth attacks of hunger.

Path of plains

Pits you in an open sprint so sickly vain.

In time... In time, he hunts...

Streets of mountains

Give you ample room to fall.

Road of shadows

Heed the wolf's call.

Nothing purer

Than the lone juror

Justifying his meal

While the minutes thin fewer.

Tonight... Tonight, he hunts.

Clouds come to a stand still.

Moon so ripe.

Weakened calves

Running so hopelessly trite

In pointless fight.

Feel your need to bleed.

See my marks within the dark.

I've been struck helplessly.

Flesh torn recklessly.

Ravished tooth sullied with my blood

And I profess to be

Forever grateful.

So I beg so fateful,

Let him spring into a jumping flight tonight.

Embrace the bite.

Tonight... Tonight, he hunts...

Here he comes...

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Gary Mills's picture

If I live a thousand years, this is the writer I want to become, I stopped here, not because of this poem, but because I have been reading your work for hours. One day, someway, I'll develope this much artistry. Bravo Alex anything other than that from me would be tripe.