I claim to know the wolf,
tracking scents in the high country  
though half truth requires I confess  
one has never been in my sight    
though in silent night,
in snow weighted pines
and fir, doubtless one
has eyed me in my folly    
I have seen the coyote  
scratching in the caliche  
on the stingy prairies,
crouching in the mesquite
ready for the ****,
whilst the hare hops by  
when chase ensues  
and mammal hearts race  
I have yet to see
the canine succeed  
the hare hides in Alice’s hole  
while the mangy hunter
settles for field mice  
or makes bargains with buzzards
while the flies yet crawl
on the ****