Blood Moon

Bloodmoon1

Red rimed, blood moon-borne
The scent that sang
Of prey and pain
On wailing wind-wracked constant change.
Marrow hazed the tunnel
That tugged the vision thither,
Hot wired the ice that pumped
These wyrded limbs
And fixed the passerby with
With hungers feverish cold regard.
Reluctant passage passed
Streets sorrow soured
Grime gripped grim shadows
Wrapped tight the muffled desperate pleas,
Cries that echoed loud
In deafening void
Where help and heart were not.
Now rent the flesh and bone
Gristle tossed aside,
And mostly gristle,
From these mean lean streets,
As hunters jaws locked tight,
The prey consumed,
Heart still beating fast,
Lives lost in urban abattoir,
This City full of homes
But none for such as they.
Avarice and greed,
Hunters both,
Padded off once more
Each person passed by blind
To monstrous presence,
Fur and fang beside them,
But shivered as their shadows touched.

© Greg Richards

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