Whistle

Hush!

Listen to the whisperer

Who keeps a quiet vigil

Still loves you.

But the dog whistlers

Farm us into submission

alarm and raise our heckles

Til we crave our own blood

And weep with the taste of it.

Wolves we are in the whispering woods

Our guts quietly spilling

Through to the roots

We hear only the distant whistle

fear and crave its blood promise.

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Philosophy
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Poetry

Flesh
Blood
Bone