Sestina #3
—My heart is unprotected and the moon is full.
There is an overwhelming sound of claws at my door.
Wooden floors creak under the weight of their paws.
Long white rays illuminate my room with shades gray.
Blood red lips and a heart made of solid ice.
I must move quickly, the wolves are on the prowl.
—Yellow eyes, heaving breaths, and snarls move and prowl.
Their stomachs are empty and yet the moon is still full.
Heavy breaths steam up as if the world is ice.
The claws clank against my door.
Almost as if they are calling into the gray.
Pushing at my door with their strong paws.
—I can hear three sets of paws.
Their fur is the color the moon casts, steely gray.
Entering my room, they surround me as they prowl.
Soon they will be full.
Before I know it, more are at the door.
I can’t move, I am like ice.
—I suddenly feel the cold of the world, surrounded in a tomb of ice.
There is a heavy feeling on my bed, paws.
My eyes dart to the solid frames in the door.
All of the wolves are looking at me, on the prowl.
No more room for fear, my eyes are already full.
Suddenly, it is no longer gray.
—The hair on the back of my neck stands on its ends, turning gray.
Suddenly the gray returns, my eyes are blue as ice.
Burning, my hair begins growing full.
This euphoric wave sweeps over me, watch out; I am on the prowl.
My fingers contort and curl under and become paws.
Standing, I lead my army through the door.
—I am ravenous, I run out the door.
There is a sheen on the packs back, silver in the gray.
Beware, I cannot stop the prowl.
Fur so thick that it couldn’t feel ice.
We hit our full stride, an army of paws.
Never stopping till we are full.
—Lock your door.
Can you feel the ice?
—It is coming, my army of gray.
Stampeding closer on all four paws.
—I am on the prowl.
I won’t stop, the moon is still full.
