perhaps, waking up here is the closest I’ve ever gotten
to living life on a bed of roses.
here, i am allowed to roam through the streets
without worrying about running into a band of wolf-hunters
& having to explain that the meeting of my eyebrows
do not make me an actual werewolf.
that i do not have a skin covered in thick fur hidden
beneath a jumpsuit i’ve never taken off
before anyone, because i fear
that i have too much hair for a normal human being.
that if i was one, i would have dug into their bodies
to see what color of marrows their bones have buried in them.
that my curved fingernails are simply products of pedicure.
that my low set of ears are gifts from my grandfathers.
that i am tired of being mistaken for an animal
i only dream of shapeshifting into when i get older.
here, my swinging stride feels like floating on a happy
hunting ground while rain pours from the gates of nirvana.
after the night falls, the werewolves gather under the light
of a full autumn moon, filling the air with howling.
i stand above my reflection on a pond, i see whiskers growing
on my cheeks & that’s when i feel my fingers giving way to claws.
Spread the word!