I am the goddess of yellow fires
flaring in the sky on oddball afternoons
but dull as dusk.
On days mild,
with settings matte;
as if the wolves weren't crouched in the shrub:
but I can see them there,
as I am a goddess
of this land long abandoned for clearer thinking.
Abandoned by most, that is.
Either way, the drugged feeling
wreathes around the atmosphere;
it eats and devours,
it festers strangely,
it growls hungrily.
The creatures dash from cover to cover,
they gnaw on the corpses in the clearing;
and all the while, the gases fume;
the goddess of this place is sent into a lull.
The leaking fog is everywhere, and the wolves
the deserters, the beasts, the jackals
swarm about this dreaming