The first time we hear the coyotes after a long winter

I leave the window open,
no matter how cold,
so we can hear them
as she falls asleep,
high pitched and sweet.

Later as the rest of the house sleeps
I think about each choice I have made,
what I did and what else I could have done.

Maybe if I had made another choice
things would be better, perfect even.

Or maybe we would still be here in this,
or some very similar, uncomfortable place.
So I try to listen to a friend who tells me,
You are one hell of a mother,

and this time I am glad
to be alone and awake at this hour.
I have missed this song.

night breeze

I feel the breeze through
the bedroom window
on a summer night
as I sit with my baby
at my breast,

it’s the end of summer
and finally the coyotes
have returned.

their song comes through
the open window and in the
odd hours of the early morning
they keep me company
in the quiet and the dark.

The cool comes on quickly and
autumn makes herself known
as the warmth of the day
arrives later and later.

Daylight makes lessons learned
in the dark harder to remember.

There is a feeling of relief
and then dismay
when I realize that
I am still myself,
despite the drastic
changes to my
definition.

Stretch marks,
like any other scar,
are a reminder
of where I’ve been
a record on my body
of each destination
and crash.
A mind may forget
but the body remembers.

It is written on my bones
and this body will find a way.

In a time of crisis
I strain to remember
what coyote taught me
about the lighthearted
nature of the universe
I say it over and over again
in my head, hoping repetition
will make it stick.

Her mouth curves into a wide grin
around my nipple and
again I am in love.

 

 

 

 

Published on Zoomoozophone Review

night breeze

I feel the breeze through
the bedroom window
on a summer night
as I sit with my baby
at my breast,

it’s the end of summer
and finally the coyotes
have returned.

their song comes through
the open window and in the
odd hours of the early morning
they keep me company
in the quiet and the dark.

The cool comes on quickly and
autumn makes herself known
as the warmth of the day
arrives later and later.

Daylight makes lessons learned
in the dark harder to remember.

There is a feeling of relief
and then dismay
when I realize that
I am still myself,
despite the drastic
changes to my
definition.

Stretch marks,
like any other scar,
are a reminder
of where I’ve been
a record on my body
of each destination
and crash.
A mind may forget
but the body remembers.

It is written on my bones
and this body will find a way.

In a time of crisis
I strain to remember
what coyote taught me
about the lighthearted
nature of the universe
I say it over and over again
in my head, hoping repetition
will make it stick.

Her mouth curves into a wide grin
around my nipple and
again I am in love.

Recently published in The Zoomoozophone Review Issue 3

learning to share

In the woods
I came across a
coyote feeding
ground strewn
with bones.
They had found
a deer carcass and,
I can only assume,
shared it – all
feasting together.

But the bones
they left for me.

Sharing is much
harder for those
on two legs.

A woman to whom
every desire is
a mere whim,
is best left behind.

A woman who
walks through the
world uncaring
is best kept at arms
length, as are most
things which are
impossible to
understand.

When a connection
isn’t possible
and the superiority
that she feels
is made clear,
it is best to
walk away.

We cannot be
weighed down
by such things.

Everyone needs
a good humbling
now and then

it cleanses the
soul’s palette.

Anchor

I try to live the day slowly
but it is not easy.

I see an old friend
with anchored in the now
inked forever on soft skin.
I draw two foxes by a fire
in love
and wonder about
my next addition.

My eyes won’t let me see
what the others see,
but I still stare
in the same direction.

We are all
inaccurate dreamers.

At night we listen
to the coyotes
as they call and play
outside our windows
sounding closer than they are.
He shines a flashlight
and we see a set of eyes.
They stop,
look,
wait,
and are gone.
I am envious of his patience
as I attempt to foresee my next move.

Doing is easier then feeling
but I must move carefully,
gradually,
whatever direction I go.