coyote follows his prey’s shadow closely
head low to the ground shrouded in borrowed dark
it’s hard to say what a dog will do to survive
until you’ve learned to like the taste of road
so far away from home, coyote,
must be lonely
the plains you remembered have been paved over;
clean and gray
the litter and debris will last far longer than your memory
but I will carry you as quietly as I’ve carried all the rest
your keen eyes behind my own that open when mine close
your limbs stretched, tendons strained
and locked within my house of bones
prowling posture reflected in hotel windows
predatory glint in the metal of the street light at dusk
what we wouldn’t do, dwindling slowly
what we’ve done, gathering dust
