Silver-Streaked Wolf

Hot stench of raw, dead, rotten

fowl.  Tongue lolls against my bare

neck.  Gutteral growl, teeth glisten,

drip with blood and entrails.

Bloodied claws dig through my torn

tshirt .  Such a weight upon me –

I stagger, stooped but determined

to take the weight of my inner ferocity.

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