You stand where the wild wolf roams
yellow eyed howling at a hanging moon
licking the last drops of lamb’s blood
from burnt and brittle bone.

You speak to me in runes
a forgotten cypher of lost tongues
between the dragon’s web & the
witch’s lair where dead love’s born.

Now my dreams are fraught with
stranger’s faces: their hands caress
our stolen secrets in a room I won’t forget
until I lay my head again on love’s bed

& let you croon a Celtic love song
softly touching spirit’s height
we magnify a field of dreams
through black & lasting night

our only hope for wild love.


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