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Muscular Lycanthrope

Updated: 6 days ago




Poem by Harry Slater


The night gives them shape,

Muscular and lithe and beyond

the crawling impartiality of sunlight.

Prowling lycanthropes, empowered

by the glowering eye of the moon.

Gloom-slunk and free,

Bellies filled with a newfound pride.

They wait for bright sun

to rebuild their false skin,

To return them to cowering shame

and the cold memories

of welcome animal breath.


Image by Mike Harman

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