She   

                                                                             with

                                                                             golden

                                                                          eyes &

                                                                        shadow-dark

                                                                      fur s t a l k s

                                                                   cobblestone streets

                                                                 in  the dead  of winter

                                                             one f  r i  g i d January.

                                                         H  o m  e i  s       b a r r  e n;

                                                  too few deer    dwell in the     forest

                                           to feed such    f e r o  c i o u s     appetites.

                                  T  h i  s f i  e r c e   & f r i g  i d J a n u a  r y,

                           Golden                  Eyes                  have                known

                       h  u n  g e r & d  e s  p e r  a t i o  n & d  e f  i a n  c e,

                  &   now       they will   know     f e a r.   Forty   lives     worth.

            The      time      has      come.                The      walls       they        built

         brought c  a t  a s t  r o p h  e, but  the      walls have       w  i t  h e r   e d.

      The   pack   has       starved                 & the    pack     has    learned:

           prey                 can walk                          on t w o               legs.

               Every     night   of      that   f  r i  g i d   January,    she    leads

                   them as    they haunt &    hunt the   alleyways,

                       s  p u  r n e  d by        the        scent

                          of warm     flesh &   cold      d r e a  d.

                             The  city is  s e i z  e d in  a chokehold

                                of                blind   t e r r o r,

                                  it             will not            last,

                                      (blood   will spill   on the steps

                                          of our Lady     of Paris)

                                           but  for now,  Golden Eyes

                                                 & Dark Fur rule the

                                                         City     of Light

                                                                 one  f r i g i d

                                                                      January.