On PMS and Werewolves

The black dog throws back his heavy head and howls
Festoons of saliva drip from his jowls
Insatiable hunger pangs crippling agony
He’s on the move and stalking me
I crawl in the wet dank undergrowth
Stifle a quickly muttered oath
My scent too strong to miss
Wait for that final hot breathy kiss
No wagging tail, no dog this
No childhood memory to reminisce
Bide my time, this too shall pass
Not the first time, not the last

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