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Coyotes (November Thirteen Twenty-Fifteen)
The night’s too dark to see, but I can hear them walking in the field next door: coyotes their steps like broken straw, breath I imagine stale with the taste of carrion their cries a bit more mournful than before as if they know that they’re no longer the ugliest among us.
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November Again.
this is when the darkness crawls in through my eyes, making pupils grow darker than normal with no sunlight anywhere nothing reflecting, the night settles in to my bones, through my pores makes my blood thick and slow, turns my lungs to cement i can’t breathe like this and the clouds gather, silently mocking creating…
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April Fox 