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.