Wolves unhinged mid-wood...
iconically framed between sceptered
pine trees.
Lapis-eyed looks of no return, their
disorienting phospherescence repeating
on distances.
Guttural catches guttural, retarding
to growls.
As the hunt bends time, the murk
of a yellowing dispatch relents a sun.
The gravitas of conquest relents
a soapy, hairbrained white to yoke
a moon...awash sin.
Their stomachs brandish the nourishment
of a co created frenzy.
They, the steeled gates policing a Lot...
whose casualties are pulled apart too
quickly for abject terror.