MY WORK

THE GRIMALKIN

The old brindled cat

sits on the hearth,

and gapes into the red blazing flames.

What is the Grimalkin

thinking about while her hoary shape

is tucked up in disdain?

Days when wicked women

spake in Satan's tongue

while burning at the stake?

Or does her arcane gaze,

aim to conjure raging storms

and leave nothing to remain?

Anthony V. Pugliese

CHANGELING

I curse what you are,

hateful fay with no love

or restraint.

You stole my boy

from his crib,

replaced him

with your Changling waif.

Nothing alive’s ever

raised you or praised you,

you wretched wraith!

The gods have berated you, forsaken you,

brought you

to an atrocious fate.

So now, let’s make a trade

for something I’m sure you will take

beneath the eerie, red glow of a rusty red moon

in its full blood-tainted phase.

Anthony V. Pugliese

LUPINE LAMENT

My human side

vied with the lupine

for the warming light

of the new dawn’s sun.

It shone upon my face,

as I lay awake in lament

for what I had done to a mother

with a newborn son.

They knew nothing about the beast

I would become, my world

where love fought but never won.

Lost time, naked and stunned,

I cry alone, yellow flesh and blood

on my hands and tongue.

Anthony V. Pugliese

CRAVE

Woe is anyone

losing their way,

and stumbling upon me

in my co-morbid sway.

Locked in a cage

to be layed in a pan,

seasoned, fileted and sauteed

to keep your flesh

from becoming bland.

I shall feast and pray during

my epicurean crave

and when the sun has set

your bones are staved,

you will be on display

on my walls and Baby Grand

instead of a dark cold grave.

Anthony V. Pugliese

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