Howling Lone 2 Poem by Cat Hodgson

The quiet of the night mocks my wretched song,
The lone path is long winding and shadowy dark

Listen to the howling wolf; he too hide in brush alone
No fanged mate to share his capture bleeding meal

Taring the flesh with teeth snarling at no opponent
I walk trebling in sorrow tread barren depths

The shaded tree tops hoot with flapping wings
I flinch, withering immovable scared stark stiff

Yet I know I must climb out of this ravine gully
But there is little light here to saunter the route

I curl back the paisley coverlet only to coldness
Heart furls snaked in nostalgic repressed images

I pull the same covering, curling a fetal position
Hoping to bite the dream of a different existence