Friday, February 10

I write about roadkill...

When I drove past the lifeless coyote on the side of the road, his spirit went through me, and I wept. I needed to know that Coyote met his demise with courage and honor, so I had this conversation in my car, out loud. 

Interview with Coyote

Abandoned, broken, leaning against a roadside cross.   
A new day for Coyote, just another day for me.   

Coyote, tell me, did you see it comin'?

Nobody ever sees it comin', my sister.   
too busy watchin' out for the arched neck of my enemy, 
too distracted listenin' for the howls of territorial war.  

Was there no escape for you, Old Man?

I did not want the escape, pale sister,    
the cracks, the curves, all painted in the blood  
of every pack brother that's stood at this cross in the road, 
the deafening upheaval came,
the earth split wide enough to swallow all my relatives,  
and I surrendered.

Were you afraid, Barking Jackal?  

Fur bristled up my back,  
my nails chiseled deep
in the hardened-soot-covered field,   
my eyes narrowed to slits,  
my lungs inhaled the dusty night, 
is that being afraid?  

So, this was a humbling experience for you, Brave Brother?

I trembled in awe of its cunning power,
but I was not humbled, sad sister, 
to be plucked from the pack,  
to thrash from the relentless squeezing of the skins. .
to drip warm and weak is an honor.

Any words of wisdom for your cousins, Phantom Wolf?

Only this, weeping sister,   
cease to be an obstacle in Its path,
the invasion cannot be stopped.
Drop your pelts and dance through the Wall of Fire.  
Create the world and hang the stars  
before your nose turns black as raven.

Abandoned, broken,
I leaned a plastic tulip against the roadside cross.


This poem appears in my book, from the earthen drum of my body  2018

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