Fierce Love

For my angry racoon.

 

 

We scratched and bit,

And clawed and gouged.

No fiercer love in these woods.
*

But as passions died with the sun,

Huddled together to face night.

Our scarred bloody bodies as one.

*

Tongues are busy cleaning spoils, 

Limbs tangled pop from furious fur.

Eyes filled with desire peep from robber’s masks.

Dean Reeves

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