Afterword by Ted V.
#59 of poetry
A sort of epilogue to a three-part story about a gay werewolf biker pack that I've been writing over the course of... three years, I think?
You can find those here: https://www.sofurry.com/view/1695958
here: https://www.sofurry.com/view/1774966
and Here: https://www.sofurry.com/view/2011680
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Some say it was all folklore, of the sort civilizations
Will sprout like fungus from the leaking seams as they grow senile.
That those who live like wolves among the ruins may find comfort
In tales that make the wolves out in the wastelands to seem noble.
Some call it an expression of promiscuous subcultures
That overlapped to bring to birth, like unwanted messiah,
A metaphor unwieldy, and a clumsy allegory
For the poverty and pathos of our queer cthonic kindred.
Some say that it was seidr, to be written on the chaos
Of the universe's backstage, and be bullied into being.
For if the world is shadow puppets on a wall, you change it
By crafting shadow puppets, whose forms the world must echo.
And some say it is true. Indeed, some hold it really happened.
That the pack is out there somewhere. They yet love eachother fiercely.
And any day may be the day a young and earnest werewolf
May call the names of you and I to turn, and be his packmate.
I'll offer no opinion here. The text supports such readings.
My own interpretation is my own. The tale is ended.
Go in whatever peace you can afford, and may your journey
Be easy on you, ere it reunites us in the sunset
Like wolves, at rest from grieving, all their pack at last together.