The Wolf
Falling for/ Falling prey. An inverse poem.
It was frightening then.
That look of pure desire,
Heated cheeks flushed to chin,
Eyes of molten fire.
.
A wolf escaping its darkened den,
Padding toward the rabbit’s briar,
Sardonic tongue sharply sanguine,
Toss me upon the pyre.
.
As if I had a choice of men.
Would I opt for hedonistic quagmire,
The things I can’t- the things I can,
Is my head the actual liar?
.
My life and limb became yours- when?
Untainted gift wrought to inspire?
Why do you love me again and again?
One's own personal rectifier.
.
It was frightening then.
That look of pure desire,
Heated cheeks flushed to chin,
Eyes of molten fire.
About the Creator
Rachael MacDonald
Avid Reader, Sometimes Poet, Occasional Writer, and searcher of truths often lost in the breaths between candy-coated lies.
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Final Call
She flings her arms around my neck and squeezes me like she’s never going to let me go. My head spins as her lips brush against my cheek. She must be able to feel my heart thumping in my chest. I shuffle backwards and ram my hands into my coat pockets, watching her reach down and heave the rucksack across her shoulders.
By Caroline Craven2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (6)
I like how the opening and close mirror each other, and this feels like a predatory advance, with the wolf and the hare. This particular line “My life and limb became yours- when?” is a rebuttal of the possessive partner. A serious and thought-provoking poem Rachael 🙌
Creative play on words.
This is great. Well done.
Wolves are so radical! well done
Incredible, and so well written. Well done.
Very beautiful and dynamic.