Ankyra Sound five twenty six, nineteen ninety.

the coyote turns
his head 
all thin lines 
and jumbled angles.
that’s what this is,
isn’t it
a life of jumbled angles
pieces that just don’t fit right. 
i dunno
i guess she wasn’t that bad
fed me and told me where to go
could be worse.
he pats his stomach again 
could be worse.
there’s a pause
as he thinks
a night time silence 
wrapping itself around them. 
a groan of a tree,
the distant trill of a lark. 
say, what did you say your name was?