Reader’s Note: The preview omits paragraph breaks and is rather unflattering to poetry. Enjoy.

 

Beneath the glow of Luna full

The leaves turned silver, pale.

My wife and I took nighttime stroll

‘Round silent park’s curved trail.

 

‘Twas early autumn I recall;

The air a chilly bite.

Enjoying earthy smells of fall,

We sauntered through quiet night.

 

While holding hands we walked in stride

Approaching forest dark.

I sniffed and sighed and asked my bride,

“Don’t you just love Moon Park?”

 

She squeezed my hand and kissed my cheek.

“I love my walks with you.

But I think Frozen Creek

And woods make rather creepy view.”

 

We’d moved recently from the city,

And Tara wasn’t merry;

She found small towns dull n’gritty,

And thought that Riversbend was scary.

 

I chortled, “Nature isn’t eerie.

You’re used to city lights;

They blot out stars and make night dreary.

Enjoy small town’s delights.”

 

“I’m telling you that forest’s ghastly.

I sense that something’s stalking

Us. I’ve a feeling nasty.

Let’s go. I’m weary of your mocking.”

 

An owl inquired our identity.

I gave woods closer look.

I saw a strange entity

With glowing eyes across the brook.

 

I didn’t want to frighten lass,

So I remained serene.

I made us walk more fast,

And kept my eyes on evil being.

 

The creature followed, creeping near.

I caught a glimpse of fangs.

Its lips were drawn in most vile sneer.

Its fur a mangy mane.

 

When Tara saw the beast she gasped

Her fear I tried allay.

“Keep moving love!” I rasped,

And pushed my wife ahead, away.

 

The beast leapt ‘cross the churning stream.

My heart was beating drum.

I saw it clearly by moon’s beam.

I thought my life was done.

 

On rear paws standing tall and fierce,

The werewolf snarled and growled.

It lunged. My flesh was ripped and pierced.

It pinned me down and howled.

 

I swore and struggled ‘gainst the brute.

Its paws a crushing weight.

My stout efforts were weak dispute

To monster’s strength innate.

 

It huffed and puffed foul smelling breath

And bit and clawed and tore.

I screamed and punched to ward off Death.

My frail strikes beast ignored.

 

One final try to save my life;

I jabbed the lycan’s eyes.

My thumbs popped werewolf’s balls like knife,

And set its maul awry.

 

The werewolf yelped, recoiled from pain.

I stood and made escape.

The monster searched for me in vain.

I raced through dim landscape.

 

Before I’d gotten through the park,

My Tara crossed my path.

She brandished club—a limb in bark—

And cried out savage wrath.

 

“It’s me!” I cried. She lowered stick.

“Thank God! I thought you dead!”

“Help me,” I said, “we need be quick!”

By moonlight’s beam we fled.

 

Once home we washed and tended wounds,

Then kissed and hugged and wept.

Light showed I wasn’t ruined,

Just bruised and battered, but not wrecked.

 

She poured herself a whiskey shot,

Another two for me.

Our nerves not calm, but less distraught,

She made an inquiry:

 

“The hell was that thing? Bear? A wolf?”

I sipped my booze. Head shook.

“You saw well as me. ‘Twas a werewolf,

Like from a storybook.”

 

I hoped she’d call me lunatic,

But she just nodded slow.

“I told you woods were creepy, dick.

You never listen, Joe.”

 

Outside we heard a ringing howl.

My blood ran frigid cold.

Sweet Tara hit me with a scowl,

And let her stress unfold.

 

“If legend’s true, you’ll turn next moon;

Those bites broke through the skin.

We need to keep you tight entombed;

Prevent you killing kin.”

 

All night we talked and planned a scheme:

I’d be a danger soon.

We’d have to act as team

To thwart the curse by next full moon.

 

We ruled out chains and ropes to bind.

They might be bent or snapped.

I’d need a sanctum—stone designed—

Where I’d be safely trapped.

 

“There’s just one place that meets our needs:

The old root cellar, dear.

I’ll bolster door ‘til strength exceeds

The brute’s raw force severe.”

 

The walls were stone and bermed with soil.

The floor was hard pack dirt.

I gave task ceaseless toil,

To make my inner wolf inert.

 

I fortified the cellar door

With planks and steel and nails.

All month I worked at chore

So monter’d not prevail.

 

The moon first waned then quickly waxed.

The beast within matured

A little more each day elapsed.

Of curse I was assured.

 

My ginger hair had sprouted lush.

My voice became a growl.

I grew more amours and flush,

And after wife I prowled.

 

A few days ‘fore full moon, we lay

In bed and caught our breath.

“This curse comes with a boon I’d say.

Just don’t shag me to death.”

 

I laughed and gave her playful bite.

“I promise nothing, dear.”

We made love ‘gain to my delight,

And then I drew her near.

 

She pet my fuzzy arms and said,

“You’ll be a ginger wolf.

Your hair is nearly fur, Old Red.

You’ll make a cute werewolf.”

 

I kissed my wife on her soft cheek

And then left for my tomb.

The week before bright Luna’s peak

I slept in cellar’s gloom.

 

I wasn’t sure when I’d turn

And dare not risk my love.

But I remained a man each nocturne,

Though strange were things dreamed of.

 

I’d chase a rabbit during dozing,

Or hounded bouncing balls.

I dreamt in smells, was always nosing

My way through slumber’s halls.

 

The morning of the true full moon

I grilled us steaks blood rare.

I had another at high noon,

Still hungry as a bear.

 

“A man of ceaseless appetite,”

My Tara said with grin.

“You mean the steak or love last night?”

I asked without chagrin.

 

“Both,” she said, but her smirk had dithered.

“Tonight you’ll change for sure.

You’re half a beast now, Joe.” Smile withered.

“You’re safe. The vault’s secure.”

 

She nodded, but was still quite stressed.

I handed her a gift.

She opened it, began to protest.

“I don’t care if you’re miffed,”

 

I said. “That gun is for protection.

The bullets are cast silver.

I don’t want to hear your abjections.

Your life I’ll never pilfer.”

 

She looked from gun to me and cried,

And then set down the pistol.

She wiped her leaking eyes and tried

To sip wine from glass crystal.

 

“I can’t,” she sobbed and dropped the glass.

“You will. You must,” I barked.

“Do not let me hurt you, damned lass.”

My anger bright as spark.

 

Recoiling, Tara buried face

In delicate small hands.

I winced. I’d never ‘fore abased

My wife with harsh demands.

 

“It’s only a precaution, love,”

I said. “I’ll be restrained

In cellar’s depths. You’re safe above,”

I said in voice tight strained.

 

Her eyes still glossy, Tara walked

Away. She left the gun.

I fumed. How was she deeply shocked?

Did she think werewolves fun?

 

I huffed. I puffed. I calmed th’hell down.

Inside I sat beside

My weeping love. “I’ve been a clown.

I’m sorry, dear,” I sighed.

 

“I understand. You’re worried’s all.

But I can’t shoot you, Joe.

Not even t’save myself grave’s shawl.

You’re my best friend, my beau.”

 

We hugged. We cried. Declared our love.

I went to cellar pit.

My darling Tara stayed above.

I latched the door. Locked it.

 

Though cellar was a darkly tomb

I knew the moon was rising soon.

 

I raged and howled as body turned.

My hands became great paws.

Dull teeth grew sharp and swelled. Gums burned.

My nails turned into claws.

 

Weak muscles surged with bulging strength.

Sparse hair became thick fur.

My spinal cord then grew in length

As tail began to whir.

 

My thoughts first muddled, then transformed.

Instinct forced them submit.

An urge—not notion—raged and stormed,

Compelling me to commit.

 

I scratched and dug by cellar door.

The dirt floor yielded, flew.

I tunneled ‘neath the hurdle ‘fore

The clock had chimed anew.

 

I had one solitary urge,

One overwhelming drive.

I sprinted toward house a surge.

I’d ne’er felt so alive.

 

I stood before the human, my bride

And jumped and yipped with glee.

She stood aghast, her teal eyes wide,

And stared at monster free.

 

Thoughts were impulse, not structured phrases.

I opened my great jaw.

I dropped a ball awaiting her praises.

My Tara smiled, said, “Aww!”

 

I wagged my tail and barked and flounced.

My love then tossed the toy.

I chased the orb that flew and bounced.

“Go get the ball! Good boy!”

 

She laughed and threw my ball anew.

Retrieving was sole goal.

I played ‘til strength was through,

And Tara pet me to extol.

 

I panted my exhaustion ‘till

She said, “time to take breather.”

She showed me mirror and laughed shrill.

In glass I saw a were-retriever.

 

Now, ever since that fateful fall,

Each full moon I’m doomed t’chase the ball.