sometimes coyotes by James Brush

sometimes coyotes

sometimes there are coyotes
all around the house

they bed down in the front yard
in the trees and behind my memories

asleep with one eye open watching stars
twirl the pole counted and known

they’ll rise and howl at owls, the moon
or anyone else impersonating

strangers who come up to the yard
they stalk a defensive perimeter

while we sleep while we dream
they open the fridge and eat

the last of the girl scout cookies
a little whipped cream for their coffee

come morning they’ve gone, a few
paw prints in the dewy grass

by James Brush

literary journal: Gnarled Oak
twitter: @jdbrush

Editor’s note: Surreal, dreamlike imagery moves through this poem, much like a wild animal moves through the spaces we think we own.