Given I was given these two hands, these two feet; I was given them without asking and they are mine. With my feet on your body I do walk on frozen ground where coyotes step, fishers, raccoons, and quail. With my breath I inhale your sweet liquor, the cold snap of four degrees; how my lungs crave your air inside me, its green perfume, though now your body is slick with ice, hard with frost, tasting green though I must cover … [Read more...]
Laura Rodley “Coyotes”
Coyotes Coyotes leave deep paw prints in new snow, traipsing east to west in search of the sun, so many miles before the dawn when they curl and sleep buried by snow and leaves. There are buck tracks too, a line alongside the coyote, each walking the same path as me, but not hunting each other just on the move while I search for sleep and wish for the lightness of breathing freezing cold air minus seven below, wearing my … [Read more...]