Dancing on her own grave,
she asks for no pity, no tears.
Only the moon and the stars
witness her desires.
She is a wolf in the night,
the defender of the last
Frontier.
Grave clay clings to her
cold, sallow toes
But even earth can not
root her in time.
Leave her be; the
Willows, they weep.
They know the price
of roots.
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