By Lillian-Yvonne Bertram

I was a thing once. A coyote

routing the timber
at the river’s edge.
Then, the river’s edge.
January’s frigid waistcoat
slinging my belly
low over the fields.
The fields?
Barked with ice.
I coyote fell in love
with grackle, a common icterid
in decline. For this I would
be broken. I would take
over meanness.
But I became its meanness
too and in the dark
lost its trail.
I was a poor-eyed
coyote overtired with a state
of haunting that feels
like desire.
When I was a woman
and my lover was a man
I did not hunt in pairs.
I did not have these fields
to choose from.
And yet I wished for them.
My sleep as a woman
was inferior & menstrus.
I was all reason & my reason
was unjust.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: