Annie On Writing

June 22, 2016

Cocaine by Kevin Andrew

Filed under: Writing Tools — Annie Evett @ 9:01 am
I feel like a wolf,
with a full moon beckoning me in my native tongue,
on the balcony of some club I hope to forget.
Bloodthirsty I return inside,
fur on my back
and claws hidden in the pockets of my jeans.
My canine stench masked in Givenchy.

I howl to the moon,
Just like the night “that boy” spent in tears
with blood trickling from my nose
and smearing across my lips.
That metallic drip, drip,
is on the back of my throat
and my eyes widen.
I am a wolf.

No longer “that boy” with the bowl cut,
and no more “that boy” with the gay voice.
I would be a wolf once more.
A white line away from God,
I transformed on the dance floor.
That place where I lost
my Michael Kors watch,
my keys,
my Tom Ford glasses,
my human skins.
My human thoughts.
My human hunger.

I followed you home
and soon saw that I had been tricked again.
Fooled by the things we do in moonlight,
the morning after stares at me in the mirror of some other wolf unnamed.
“That boy” in the mirror looks tired.
“That boy” with the bowl cut,
“that boy” with the gay voice,
He looks beautiful and ready to go home.


1 Comment »

  1. I read this twice. Really well done, moving and thoughtful.


    Comment by ganymeder — June 27, 2016 @ 4:52 am | Reply

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