deepundergroundpoetry.com
Werewolf
The morning comes as if
to a werewolf on
a mossy bank,
the light fingers retracting fur until
a nude accountant’s all that’s left,
wondering just how he came to be
so far from home, and hoping he’s
not killed again.
to a werewolf on
a mossy bank,
the light fingers retracting fur until
a nude accountant’s all that’s left,
wondering just how he came to be
so far from home, and hoping he’s
not killed again.
Published 8th Nov 2022
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