Wolfskindreams


We are wolves
at our delicious core,
howling desires at consciousness’ moon.

In lunar sleep
we greyly sink
to the baying heart of us.

We dress dreams
in sheep’s clothing.
Pulling the wool over our own eyes.

Bleat secrets
in a foreign tongue
we’ve forgotten the whispering of.

And as lambs lay with lions
we must waken the wilder skin
sat inside our civilised suits.

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