On the shaded floor of a velvet dark forest
careful feet prance into a dance of death.
Bright flesh devoured between grisly teeth
or live in starvation, take your meal as breath.
Whimpering under my salivating beast,
I call out, throat caught in the jaw, no release.
"Midnight man, sing a soft song of me"
As, for that sleepy place, I seek
to bury my body in the shadow of the wood,
so discrete.
So meek;
me in my whitest cloth and quivering stare,
try to hide, soft rabbit, but white leaves you bare.
Better to become wolf and chase an ever
darkening
moon.