When I first saw you, eating that deer so elegantly, I thought...

Let me bore my teeth into you and

learn how the blood floods to your cheeks.

Let me watch your hunger-tinged eyes

drag themselves across me.

Let me see you.

I promise I do not bite;

my silver cross will be cast away.

Just hide your rosary

and come away from the stream.

I would run my sharpened nails down your mane

and memorise the scars of hunts long ago if you let me.

I would cleanse you of those scars,

if only to see freshly borne canines in the moonlight.

But when the night drifts off, we will both be gone.

A human wearing your coat, dirt wearing me.

I am praying to see you under the full moon again,

but your snout will not be bristled the same

and this tithe placed upon me may hurt too much.

I fear I will have to give a finger as penance.

Yet I would do anything to taste the

blood you gave me that night again.

It pointed its sickeningly sharp edge to

the cavern in my chest and dared me

to guess that it was not pure.

Let me feel its point again.

To think I could starve myself.

Written by The Heron.