Seething Trails

 

This she-wolf runs free from the pack. Her mate follows
closer than a shadow. Wild finds its blood.
Fierce and low, she rips the underside of desecration
then comes back for bones, crunched in feral lust.
Night lopes bring the sharp, cold light of the moon
and howls from grime. Growls herald the lunge —
she severs the throats of torpid meatheads.


The moon eclipse allows her reign, a silver streak dash
of fierce justice. Though she denies loyalty, she chooses
her chains vigilantly. Some dare to skim her pelt,
few hands withdraw unscathed, until drum beats urge her on.











Entry in DU Member Miss_Sub comp