The werewolf howled piteously
and sought comfort in the lap of his wife

pitchfork wounds in his ribs
nails in his paws
jaundiced eyes filled with pain and regret
as the last edge of the full moon slid behind the castle's walls
He would bay no more this night
her warm caress soothed him
she gave him undue tenderness
and received feral gratitude

*Title and opening stanza from the Transitive Vampire