Coyote Roadkill
1 WeekDayDream + Art
Author’s Note -
As the poem opens in my time and place, it is a place in time that belongs to us all. History serves no-one, especially the ravenous Human-Natured de-wilding our genealogical history has proved - Highways and Monocrops, Deforestation and De-mountain-ization, Pesticides and Herbicides - How long the list goes on?
All to say : The global Nature always dies by Us as a whole. There is no blame to the individual (you Dear Reader) - I believe you have come here of your own volition - and as such have a tenderness for the Wild World that survives in our neighborhood yards.
And - “As the poem opens in my time and place” - it belongs to the deceased. The spirit of a Lone Coyote - bringing the life-name forwards to a memoriam (as the Samhain Veil is lifted) shall we see the spirits of life move among our imaginative thoughts…
Coyote Roadkill
Arizona State Route 101 - Phoenix – gray asphalt sixty five speed limit four lanes heading North Orange furred pre-canine ancestor – fire skin four paws - Animist God of Wiled-eyed-West Coyote Roadkill traveling as everyone else Coyote Roadkill walked the four-lane line dry fresh death dust ridden rough wilderness resting Spring is next week We laid the winding concrete flattened Earth landscape make appointments keep on time clocks ticking places to be people to see droving cars fueled gasoline bypass wildlife Impact the plasticine bumper to mountain moving body Coyote Roadkill bone breaking lung shredding internal bleeding brain bruising limp bloated unbreathed unconscious roadside museum death exhibit drive past enjoy the show Move On Let us walk our dogs in HOA neighborhoods call animal control when we wander too far wildlife “business unusual” control the Deserted cage the kinsfolk remove the teeth of aggression Honor Coyote Roadkill – gutted form tanned hide bleached bones fire skin jagged tooth on display – “Look at my Wilderness” alter this corpse to be Sacrificial altar blessed administer magic ritual translate your kips, yips, howls into English transition Does our own tongue not mimic our own last-lost language? Bark On voice that trickster cannot speak dry, fresh fear of which we do not know desert dusted shredded lung Coyote Roadkill home and not home will never tell The Truth “Coyote Roadkill, may I hide in your flesh? May I too become maggot eaten? I am tired of comfortable homes and man-made problems. Cash to change hands, life-work balance, technologies machine maintenance, soft and thoughtful communication, judgement centered cleanliness. I bake my breads, grill my meats and anoint my coffees with sugars and creams. I have made all my appointments and kept to the status quo. I am tired of a rational Soul. I want to breathe your life that bloods my teeth. Cling to me that desert breathe that is your life. I trust your flesh over my own kin. I call unto you as my own brethren, bringing you home to my own heart-string beating. Your blood my blood. Your life for my own possession in my prose, written in my own power, my own voice. Dearest Coyote Roadkill. This is where you Die.” Would we rather be Coyote Roadkill? death Birthed Tears at the edge of life disappeared from the roadside Coyote Roadkill Where is your body now?
(May 2025)
