Down the short stair and across the room, towards me came a figure
loping like a wolf, bare skin stretched to show ribs
picked clean like the chicken we ate for dinner.
Old and head hanging; no threat but a threat all the same.
Split skin and yellow teeth, its breath was like a rotten meal
as it lifted its head I found myself
caught in its stare, and I saw its eyes glowed, full of pain.

Unthinking I reached out my hand

It came closer and I noticed how our skin matched
tone for tone, how our tendons reached and flexed
flesh-free and aching.
Then it spread its hand. A human hand
and I dug my claws deep into the wooden floor.
It had a voice. I heard a voice
but it was deafened by my own.