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.