Gothic Romance: The Horrors Of Wolf Creek Poem by Sonny Rainshine

Down in the murky black
waters of Wolf Creek,
my no-count buddies used to say
when we snuck away from
Miss Waverly’s ninth grade English class
(Poor soul, she fantasized about
teaching us boys about Byron
and Shelley; she died disillusioned)
there dwells a murderous water-monster,
with not two heads but three,
and fangs that could frazzle you
like battery cables.

Every time a tree branch
fell into the water, rich black
like semi-sweet chocolate,
two or three of us would
jump out on the sandbank,
shivering in our skins
like caught fish.

But that’s not to say that
Wolf Creek was devoid of monsters
and watery wickedness.
More times than not
a sinister, swirly rope,
a water mocassin,
wiggled way too near my knees
and once Martin
saw a wildcat
with vampire eyes
watching us.

Many years later
after Byron and Shelley
finally got through to me
(much to the chagrin
of Martin and the boys) ,
it occurred to me that the only wolves
on that creek were us.

But there’s something thrilling
about a wolf, isn’t there?
Something not confined to a river
or a swimming hole.
Someday, I’d like to see a wolf.