Riding Hood

Death has never treated me so savage 
I’ve been waiting up for the moon to will itself to change form 
Started scratching out your claw marks on the rotting trees you push away
When you’re feeling just too surrounded and they leave gashes in your fur
I know you never meant to use your bite on mother’s poor throat
In August, sister came with silver and I’ve never seen you so sad
If I were a real poet maybe I could find the war in my words 
To chain you under the blood you spill 
Instead I pull myself from the swamp and toss the shame to the rattlesnakes
Sob a song I know too well now
“I’m sorry mother, 
he’s crying, 
I must heal, I must heal,” 
In return a howling chorus beckons me
Maybe my heart has gotten too big for my own body
Maybe if he chews it down it will fit his new one instead
Mother he’s sick on guts and grit and I have to try
The moon can’t take him;
Mother, let the moon devour me