the baleful primal

he tears through the throat of her enemies
when the leather of his lust is tugged upon,
freshly wetted, and what a delicious catastrophe
his love has turned out to be!

their twisting limbs are scathed by the same nettle
that harried their footsteps,
but how tantalisingly beastly it is when
she grabs his jaw and smolders,
rolling souls from her tongue.

the orchestra of sweet nothing and sharp bites
brought him crawling back to their bed from the floor,
drawing the blankets over his head and her hips
while her heart bled onto his lips, slain. 

the howling in the Rockies was his voice,
mangled as it crosses the river,
and he allowed himself to be dragged
lowered lovingly into a silt bed.
he considered this to be
the best day of his life.