To me, you are always just a flash of fire,
a lone figure retreating into dusk’s breath,
the hot, green stink of your memory –
I am always where you have been.

Once, you came to me in bruised night,
moonlit and skulking on my doorstep,
an effigy of lost loves, remembered in
the way your muscles hulked under your skin.

I watched you lick blood from your teeth,
suave in the vulgar necessity of the kill –
thief of skin and soft organs,
shadow-child of myth and moon.

Once, I got close enough to hear your heart
snarling in your chest like a caged animal –
your greatest trick was letting me believe
that you were more than red, amoral nature;

letting me believe that you could love.


Cherry Doyle
Poet of the Month June 2016

vulpesfin [393]

Illustration by Josie Jester – website: