A she wolf craves a human den.
In the hearts of subterranean men
With flesh and blood and open jaw
Her wolf-print paw marks. Static, claw_
A rib wet womb of distemper.
In circles of death made crueller_
Her fur cribs an unwanted soul.
Her teats vortex a new hellhole!
In her loins dance a devils fold.
A mortal breath; inhaling the cold,
The external infant cub, nuzzling_
For her warmth, only feels the empty, gnashing.
For her warmth, only feels more bereft!
And unclothed, betwixt her weft!
Can only feel more primordial, scurry, free_
The lambs of this family, damnations, tree.