Bisclavret never liked my nose
always complained it gave too
much hint of my heritage
Yet when the alternative to
marrying one local lord is
waiting for another to snap
you up in marital jaws
what do you do
He was the least worst of
my so-called choices

I didn’t complain about him
being a werewolf
He thought I didn’t know
Not even I’m that willfully
oblivious
he’d come to bed
past midnight smelling of forest
shreds of rabbit fur hanging
from his mouth

Sometimes people transform
into animals
it’s hardly the end
of the world
What bothered me far more
was being wed for utility
then criticized whenever
I wasn’t ignored

When his star began rising
at court, propelled by
tournament victories
political cleverness
he was awash in favors from
ladies and lords alike
thrilled to escape the
backwater he ruled

I was startled
relieved
astounded
to find refuge
in friendship with a knight
who cared for me
spoke with me
as though my words
were worth hearing

When Bisclavret was home
he growled, groaned, grumbled
of my overall inferiority to
the ladies of court
yet he was surprised when
I chose to run away
with my knight

Lance-like, Bisclavret
wielded my flight against me
supported by
court lords
and ladies
who clung, burrs
on his famous fur

He didn’t bite my nose off
I shudder to imagine the infection risk
No
he hired a Camelot wizard to make
my nose smaller
my face lesser

My face
and heart
ached
My exile was welcome
my dear knight remained
at my side
as we quested for
a magic-worker wise enough
to restore
my true nose