The city warns that coyote have been sighted
broaching a few neighbors’ yards. Scat & paw prints
found come morning. They must be hungry & desperate,
trembling in the shadows beyond the back porch,
which is the way a secret lover once arrived
some nights. How much excitement in that romance,
right there next door to the gossipy so-and-so
with her almost perfect lawn, her Jesus loves you
bumper sticker. The moon like a lit lamp
through a curtained window. I hear yowls
in the wind or else it’s the echo of radio song,
some crooner with his torch, his inevitable
hurt. The coyotes may be in heat—it’s March
after all, so food & love have been scarce for months.
The motion light floods the yard momentarily.
The apple branches shiver in winter’s last gusts
like a pilgrim. No one & nothing approaches
my porch anymore. Relentless & close
something yips—systolic-diastolic—well toward dawn.