when you threw me to the wolves that night,
did you think they’d find me easy to swallow?

you’ve loved me more than the others; you
know i am shattered glass, iron nails, razor
blades. you know i claw and scream on the
way down.

of course i bit back. i learned to love the moon.
i wore wolf skins as easily as my own. i growled
at death and watched him run.

please know that if you feel the hair rise on the back
of your neck, sense a shadow in the bathroom
mirror, find eyes in the thick of night, i am here.

i do not hunger after you. i imagine you’ll taste
exactly as i remember: sour, chalky, gritty. dirt
under my nails. i will be bored of this form soon.

i suggest next time, you try feeding me to dragons.