Shadow of the Moon
By Anthony Jutz
Fractured and deranged,
The moon-beast shambles through the wood.
It hungers for fresh kills,
Not of its own, but to steal from others.
Standing erect it gazes on,
The dull maroon of blood shines in the light of the moon.
The corpse of a doe, fresh and sweet,
Ripe and inviting, calling its name.
Lumbering forward, the moon-beast
Lurches toward its prey.
The wolf, its foe, lays broken at its feet.
Soon to be remade anew.
Fungal spores float upon hot breath,
Carrying new life into the flesh of both Cervid and Canus.
Reborn, they will carry on their function,
Much like that of the moon-beast.
Another shambles, another beast,
To spread a plague upon and without.
It reanimates life into its own making:
To unmake the Earth.