The Harsh Mistress

Written by: Heather Powell

The night erupts with mournful wailing cries 

Howling curses to the moon whose gentle

Glow evokes a softness hiding spite.

A lunar rhythm beating in the hearts

Of mortal beings touched by fate’s cruel hand.

She watches, waiting as she spurns the waning.

Glowing orb with gentle light, she grasps

The hourglass of time and breaks the bones

And twists the forms of all her wayward pawns.

Feet grow pads and bodies burst into fur

As snarling lips grow long and sharp with fangs.

These mockeries of human flesh and blood

Bask in a night of hellish gaiety

And weep in morning’s light against the evil

Flowing through their veins from one cursed bite,

Which chained them to a heartless moon who coos

And claims to love her wraiths of cureless chaos.

The moon looks on in pleasure, loving misery.