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    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.

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