Discarded Things

There beneath the concrete veil I found them
Those lucky few of the numinous kin
My entreaties on deaf ears sat condemned
No appeal to them to wed soul and skin

Abandoned there within that stony tomb
My apotheotic path there uncoiled;
From whence came those curs from what ancient womb
That First, immaculate and unspoiled?

So: Moon, Moon! Golden horns! Melt the bullet,
Blunt the knife, rot the cudgel! Fear, strike fear!
Human flesh consigned to wolfen gibbet
Mortal defect dies to the lunule spear

And turnskinned flesh feasts on broken design
As bone and meat and mind there recombine.

Note: Slightly inspired by the very strange history of Russian werewolf folklore as reported on my other blog, Pretty Awful Things.

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