Prometheus Meets Girl

A piece of prosaic prose, unpoetic poetry.

The moon wanders across the sky,

Meandering towards the distant sanctuary of the mountains.

The Wolfman follows, drawn by something uncontrollable;

Like a ghost ship at the acquiescent mercy of the tides.

The wind makes the weeds dance,

And carries a soft squeak, an exhale of pain.

The cries block him from the moon and the mountains.

The Wolfman approaches softly, whispering sweet everythings;

Holding his hands out in submission,

Claws facing downwards to the blushing, reddening soil.

The Beauty lies damaged and lost,

An impure damsel in infectious distress.

He sends a sincere smile,

She sees a sinister sneer.

He reaches out a paw and strokes her hair.

She recoils, groaning as her typical jerk opens old wounds.

The Wolfman turns to the moon, the mountains.

He scoops The Beauty up in his arms,

And carries her from the crash,

Striding through the weeds of the mire.

She grabs his arms and pushes herself,

As far into the cavern of his shoulder as she can.

Her fingernails dig into The Wolfman's back;

He shuts tears from his eyes and lurches on.

The Beauty squeezes her arms around his neck,

The Wolfman falls to a knee, rises, and continues.

The Beauty begins to cry, and pulls tighter;

The Wolfman's voice rattles, and he takes his final fall.

The moon disappears behind the mountains,

The Beauty looks down, into the still eyes of a young man.

Like An Old Book Misread

Howling Ethan..