Wolves at the door.
Sneering, whale-eyed.
Tails slung low under the moon.
They grinned their lies
Through teeth that dripped
With promises.
"Comfort", they sang
"Belonging" in some minor key.
And other words I knew but couldn't hear.
My tongue slid out onto the floor and flapped along,
While theirs did all the talking,
Licking my face with daggers and
Laughing into my bones.
I could have drowned in wolf-mouths,
Wrapped myself in their wet steel pelts to keep warm
And swam the waves of their blood all the way up,
But I shut the door, and left them on the stoop with my throat for their dinner.
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