Teeth

The Teeth meet in my throat

I long to feel

Through pain, that transformation I desire,

Let me no longer walk the world a man,

I would be indistinct

Shed human skin

Fall back into the beast-life

Underneath, for being called a beast

For having loved, against the mores

Of my tribe and kith, what else is left?

What pain on two legs lifted to the sky,

That is not better held aloft by four.

I was no man of note

I had to steal

To get my little bread, my meagre fire

It will be easier not to need to plan

To feel instead the instinct

Of wolf kin

For though a weaking runt, in pack the least

The one who lopes to rear, in any fories

I would have love again, not be bereft

The Teeth meet at my throat - I mean to die

And hope to rise again, nearer the floor.

Well, let who will now gloat,

And boast their zeal

Who hounded me with all their human ire.

They would not own me as a living man

They thought me better driven hence, extinct

And now a different life it can begin

In which I fear not them, and howling feast

I slave not any longer, and my chores

Are set by natures' hidden weave and weft

My teeth will meet in those who did deny

That I was worth as much as they or more.