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for The White Wolf
I could hope
to know the violence of you.
Sudden rush, breakage, certain burn, gnash, bleed
that inevitably happens when time to feed. I’m game
for pain. I could hope to know motivations more
than aggression bent, and foraging. I could. But
seem to weigh and wait. The dreams say
distraction. I aim to claim you anyway. Angle widens,
foreground white. Wolf grin. Background…