The Wolf would run.

If she was in the woods

with a wolf,

the wolf would run

Her cape would be the blade,

Swift and quiet but sharp till the hilt

It craned over a field of crescent flowers,

cutting off their buds

And when she walked, she cleared the hill

of all their heads.

Her smile chased the wolf and her hair

scalped his fur and burned his paws.

The wolf ran that day when her red

cloak blew his way.

The wolf ran from her howl in the night

While she slept soundly nice and tight.


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