Wolverine
It’s a weird night,
Of moonlit shadow and howling.
A cloud blows across,
Then revealing a pallid light.
Is that a dog?
I hope that it’s a dog.
Or I will be a nice meal,
For a snarling wolverine beast.
Baying like the wind,
Yet scowling like a spectre.
As my pulse soars,
And my eyes bulge out.
Now the lupine creature,
With teeth as sharp as knives,
Smiles a cunning mystery,
Then lopes away into the night.
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