I thought I was descended from a wolf 
And my judgment was a hunt or
A crawling calculation 
Of your mass and my needs,
But the two became transposed 
In your scheming with the snow
And its first blow of blindness.

Your strikes were subsequent
(So deceiving in their silence)
But the frost proved too severe,
So I yielded for your promise
Of a moment’s worth of warmth.

"The hunger is deluding you now"—
Whispered sweetly into every bite
Of my décolletage, consumed 
With an ardor so unnerving,
Resistance was as hollow
As my bones,
Once full of marrow;
And my heart, 
Once surely pumping.