Slow Dance At The Edge Of Everything

by Rose Maria Woodson

coyotes never seem

to sleep now,


drifting in &

out at the edge of


concrete, sniffing behind condos,

always on the verge of


finding morsels or

collision in  the stop


& go tango of yellow

cabs & buses.


tagged wildness.

taboo contact.  a caste


of fur &

yearning.  now I see,


frozen in  the  low

beams of the limping moon.


fear & awe slow dance  in

my eyes.  a corner


of crumbs & shadows. 

windows glean shrinking


sun.  I am the only

witness.  grace


vises my wishbone. 

the moment, already extinct, dives


into my deep end.  aching

rises, breaks the surface.


breathless.  tinseled.

the unpaved rib returns.

moonlight streams.  coyote dreams.

a wide path Once

more.    eye to eye.

at the edge of the concrete


hunger.   blink.    turn.