The
night I saw her naked I heard a coyote. It was the first coyote I
had ever heard. I want to talk about that coyote, what his life must
be like, running through the thinning woods, tripping into the sewer
pipes, killing the occasional rat or small child. God loves the coyote.
Like the raccoon he can adapt. Like the eagle he has presence. I cannot
adapt, I hear you saying. I hear you telling the others about my need,
my repressive salubriousness. I hear the whispers about my sere, malefic
apparatus. And every night before I go to sleep I try and remember
that wild cracky sound like a plaintive horn deep inside the fissures
of darkness. It bedogs me. I try to remember the coyote that’s
in me, the restless raconteur. And I try to remember her naked, the
soft declivities, the ragged tattoos, her effluvia.
-------------------------------------
Corey
Mesler has been published in numerous journals and anthologies. His
novel, Talk, was released in 2002,
and a chapbook of poems, Chin-Chin in Eden, in 2003. His
second novel, We are Billion-Year-Old Carbon, is due out
in December. He runs Burke’s Book Store in Memphis TN.
©
2005 Me Three