Saturday, February 15, 2020

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.


 

No comments: