my hot sweaty pelt…
I am walking your path
and obliging snowmelt
hides all proofs of my wrath.

my nose leads me…
I depend on your scent.
I stand on my knee –
do you hear my lament?

my fangs brightly shine.
moon tries on mourning.
you will be mine –
mine no later than morning!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014