Bad Moon Rising

With apologies to Credance Clearwater Revival

I am loup garou, shape – changer, werewolf.
When the full moon silvers the earth,
my bones begin to warp, ligaments crack
and lengthen and my skin furs over.

My jaw twists and groans, a muzzle
thrusts forward and razor-sharp fangs appear.
Soon I am loping through the night,
hunger gnawing at me, blood – lust hammering
in my heart,my brain. Instant death awaits

any prey that I find, teeth tearing
warm flesh, bones crunching, the iron
taste of blood. But … as daylight
floods the forest floor I awaken,
naked and shivering with shame,
and remember that I am a man, not a beast.

Bill Fitzsimons

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