Rougarou

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Rougarou

“The Rougarou saw his shadow; four more weeks

of crayfish season.”--Cajun saying.

Werewolves are not real. This is the prevailing axiom;

but I’m here to tell you, for some of us, monsters are

real. Like UFO’s, those of us who’ve seen them have

a hard time convincing others.

Last year I visited an old high school sussie, who lives

alone in a clapboard cabin deep in the Louisiana 

swamp. He hunts alligators and snakes for a living.

I arrived at his hut after dark. There are no roads.

I had rented a boat. There were a couple of lantern

lights on inside. I could hear spirited zydeco music.

I tied off the boat on his dock. Approaching the front

door, I shouted: T. Leon! Ca Va, you old couillion!

There was no answer. I slowly opened the door.

Leon was on the floor on his back with his throat

ripped out. There was a fire in his stove.

I heard a close by blood-curdling wolf-howl,

followed by loud growling. I fled for my life,

but Leon haunts my dreams, and his shadow

shouts on a nightmare scream.

Glenn Buttkus

Prosery

Posted over at d'Verse Poets Pub