Wolf Supper
Making animal love in a public dining room;
desperate to eat each other,
cutlery not required.
Plush velvet seats fringed with the taste of your flesh.
I can see through to the second and third courses;
desert is the sweetest I've ever tasted
and can't come quickly enough.
We find ourselves naked in the back bathroom;
the other diners finishing their suppers,
scraping their plates whilst we scrape each other.
I've pocketed the silver salt salver
as a bullet substitute just in case your wolf-self
forgets not to devour me completely.
Then again, I may devour you first.