Coyotes I couldn’t see stalked

the empty corn fields behind our house all night,
singing to each other
beneath the low orange moon.

You sighed like an early snow
in your sleep.

It was four a.m.
the last time I checked
the clock before dragging myself
from bed to get dressed.

I got up to go stand in the open
kitchen door, drinking
the cold dregs of yesterday’s coffee.

Our dog followed me that far, then sniffed
the air and decided he wasn’t that interested
in barking at whatever was hiding out there.

Doubt, most likely. Or worse, neighbor ghosts.

He disappeared back down the hall to protect you.
After shutting and locking the door, I disappeared.

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Assistant Editor: Cami Krueger / Editor: Bryonie Wise

Photo: elephant archives