The sand reclaimed its streets to then entomb
Its fanes and monuments of time worn black.
These dark basaltic stones would bake and crack
While in the cooling night the frigid gloom
Would call them forth to watch the hunt resume
As through the black savannah that dread pack,
Would seek the hapless people to attack
While moonlit orchids spread their strange perfume.
There in those fallen domes and spires call
Each werewolf to his mate when dusk comes on
As overhead the stars, a dismal pall,
Wait for the day, the life-renewing dawn.
It thrives until the final entropy
Will then expel this dark lycanthropy.
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Submission Name: City of Werewolves
