Quiver- A Valentine

Like a pack of wolves
a pack of lies
swarms a gut pile
bile and flies
blankets the entrails
canine lust
candid carnage
lupus trust
and Cupid’s lost
an arrow.

She’ll howl
she’ll howl
like Pollack’s beast
simmering growls
relentless feasts
with a carnal drive
her desires must thrive
in deserts of
decorum
and decency.

But the arrow’s dulled
The shaft is bent
True no more
than true intent
to maim and plunder
from shadow lands...
and howl
and howl
for Cupid’s damned.