Untitled Poem by Rowan Welch

Wolf, Snake, Panther, Owl..
What loneliness could be so foul,
As fangs with blood,
Slobbering an iron flood.

Downward, forward, unto the rift-
Of dead things with gifts-
So salty Deoxyribonucleic acid,
No resistance so flaccid-
In the pubic death-trap-
So organized on the skrying map-
To demonize the fainting saints,
Crying with their hand-constraints-

Over their mouths!
Over their eyes!

Hypnotized by emotional cries;
The ties!
The bond made!
By all else forgotten; forbade!

You! No more!
Dust! The wind you scorn-
From racing unicorn,
And galloping horns-
Always think to cate the forn.