Werewolves at Midnight

Foam burbling on our teeth,
curses lingering on the earth,
we wag our tails and preen
we see and are unseen.
Oh, find me the next kill!
Feast on flesh,
fresh with thrill.
Flush away the pills,
Stay awake all night,
Keep the fangs, keep the –
Oh whatever god will listen –
Keep us in your graces,
keep us in your graces,
Until we awake,
human in the light of day.


You are now aware of your eyelashes,
long, graceful, and gently
pulling away from your eyelid.

You are now aware of the last time
one shed,
like a dead branch from a tall tree,
and landed,
on the surface of your vision.

when the lights are off
and the full moon gazes,
through your window,
you will wake with a sudden start –
a pain in your eye,
something sharp,
something rough,
an eyelash that is not your own.

Halloween (2019, #1)

they are knocking on my windows,
men with thin fingers and
the appetites of wolves.
Their breath fogs the glass,
stinks through the windowpane:
abandoned barns full of
hollowed cattle,
skin turned brittle,
the too-sweet smell of
rotten grain.
They are thin as shadows,
their fingers work through the storm-guards,
sliding easily into the room.
they are standing and
watching me sleep,
these men with thin fingers
and the appetites of wolves.