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 I heard your warped cry in the night,

Stopping my ears;

A screech of beast,

That twist of passion missed by man,

That fierce taboo you knew you must have.

You hid your curved fingernails,

Your lengthening teeth, the fur,

Growing indiscreetly

On the back of your hands.

And for a time you tried to fool your senses,

Soft skies, gentle pastoral scenes, your game,

Avoiding the glare of the seething moon.

I knew you first a legend,

Cruel with beauty, Such was your appeal.

I pace your grave-yard horror now,

Feel. your fervour in the darkening air,

Stare, and wonder where you are,

On the other side of sunlight.

MOON

 © Wendy Bardsley 2014

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