Thursday, 16 February 2017

A poem by Sharon Larkin

Lone wolf


All alone on the canyon rim,
he sniffs the air, deciphers scents,
to find out what a state she's in
and where she is, right now.
He watches as she skips along,
mindless to danger overhead.
He squints to see beyond mere skin
to former wounds, panting heart.

She's no more than a little kid,
neat feet silent on the scree.
He melts, a mystery, back to stone,
snaps lids tight to dim his gaze,
drops to haunches, tracker-mode,
stalks with stealth the undergrowth.
Now she senses that he's near,
nose to earth, sniffing musk.

He visits every place she's been,
studies what she's left for him,
tastes, licks lips, laps her up
just to dismiss this oral bliss
to deal with a more base desire.
Soon his teeth will gnash on bone,
saliva, froth and blood will blend.
She will learn what's eating her
is him alone.







Sharon Larkin's poems have been published in anthologies (eg Cinnamon, Eyewear, Indigo Dreams), in magazines (including Prole, Obsessed with Pipework, Here Comes Everyone, Reach), on-line (eg Clear Poetry, Stare’s Nest, Ground, Rat's Ass Review, Grievous Angel, Open Mouse) and she has work forthcoming at Ink, Sweat & Tears. Sharon is Chair of Cheltenham Arts Council, was Chair of Cheltenham Poetry Society (2011 - 2015), is on the committee of Gloucestershire Writers' Network and organizes Poetry CafĂ© - Refreshed in Cheltenham. She has an MA in Creative Writing and a passion for Welsh language, literature and history.

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