Fat Moon Night
The garoul hunts in a pack
with his two brothers.
When the moon is thin,
they hunt deer in the dark woods
and drink the red blood that flows.
When the moon fattens,
they shift their shape
to that of buff young men
and they hunt the seedy end of town
for something that runs hotter than blood
and they drink the yellow beer that foams.
The garoul senses prey
and howls to his brothers.
Down the dark alley they race
baying their desire for soft womanflesh
but their prey turns and yells,
They do not understand,
and when they keep coming,
she shoots the lead garoul
and her partner shoots the other two.
Flesh flows away.
Dead, their true shape shows,
and three limp wolves lie in the alley.
“Well,” says the policewoman, “just how
are we supposed to fit that into a vice report?”