They came for me as the marble moon
danced in its copper-toned skin.
Their dark cries and fearless howls
knew only desire, not regret.
Silver teardrops dusted the sky
while rubies dropped, scattered,
spread out their liquid glow.
A strangled cry pierced the silence,
colours blurred and faded.
They oozed through the cracks and raced
headlong toward my crumpled form.
I was their prize. Weak, I could not fight,
could not break the sharp claws.
Faint cries like a dove echoed in my ears.
Lights flashed and wavered. Something
pulled my arms. Red circles swarmed and
I was saved.
They came for me and lost.
Emily Clayton 