Get Your Premium Membership

The Last Wolf

They poison the sheep, Believing wolves can’t die. Death is indiscriminate! They can’t see it, Their new genesis, Feeding on the withered bodies Of bleating sheep, Engendered in the putrid froth, Dripping from the wolf’s jowls. Their eyes are dilated egos, Glazed-over with impotent apathy, Empty as a cloudless sky, One obscure horizon, Melting like dirty ice, Into the other. Disregarded behind tinted glass! Slightly afraid — eventually, They applaud a common stratagem, A method to poison the poisoned, Secretly wondering, If gods can really die. There is a rumor of frailty! Someone coughs. A bead of yellow sweat signs a contract! They make nervous excuses. Rush in undisclosed unison, Holding their breath Behind monogrammed handkerchiefs, To wash trembling hands, In private restrooms, But the sinks Are full of blood. The last wolf howls Ignoring the moon.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 7/10/2010 1:53:00 PM
So enjoyed reading your creative write tonight.. Claire.. with luv..
Login to Reply

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry