How lost am I to you,
the last glimmer of hope embedded
inside my brain, inside crumbling suburbia

I want the shadows to take me home,
to a place so far away
no one knows my name,
I become a stranger unto myself.

how many ways
to love a sunbeam,
            suspended in open air,
            bleaching the dust
                        gathered beneath
                        the tiffany windows.

The coyote in the street,
the long lingering memory
on the edges of our town,
where the night is dark
where the moon is bright.

His blood is our blood,
we forget him quickly;
standing in the porchlight,
losing him to time.

Coyote watches us
watching the treeline,
and he understands.