Katherine Henion

The hungry wolves howled, for the caribou
by the frost trimmed lake, grazing on grass
under the glow of the full harvest moon.

The great hunt begins, with the leader’s ravenous croon
for the bony pack to assemble to the brass.
The hungry wolves howled, for the caribou.

Down the mountain, the smell of sweet perfume
of their next sublime, carnivorous task
under the glow of the full harvest moon.

With ever step constant, growling grew
for prey.  Down below the winter mass,
the hungry wolves howled, for the caribou.

At the frosted lake, the wolves resumed
sniffing, trying to catch the hearty gas,
under the glow of the full harvest moon.

Alas, the wolves tear at their warm due.
The great migration thundered passed,
The hungry wolves howled for the caribou
under the glow of the full harvest moon.

Katherine Henion

Asked the same
question over and
over again from that witch.
She knew my answer.

A girl, hair as black as night,
her lips as red as the rose
and skin as white as snow.
Nothing changed this fact.

She scowled every time.
Being a mirror that
answers all questions,
I set in motion their destiny.

Snow white has a destiny
with her Prince charming.
And the witch met hers at
the edge of a cliff.

Every time I see a face
it reveals to me their
souls true image, for you
cannot lie to a mirror.

The Witch Queen’s soul
was infested with the most
evil of spirits. She could not
hide what the mirror could find.

Katherine Henion

Bright red with
A pull down roof.
Brown leather seats that
sticks on a hot day.

The carpet, once brown,
Stained black from ash.
Cigar and cigarette smoke
Blasts into your face.

The leather felt smooth and
The carpet, stiff.
The klang of Scotch bottles
Rang when gears shifted.

The pull of seat belts
Zipped, but not fast enough.
Out of the drive and
On to the beeping street.

Uncle John driving,
Some times with no hands.
Screams were caught in the wind,
But a deep laugh

Over threw everything.

Katherine Henion