The Coyote and The Albatross


your scorch-scarred paws treading the eastern beaches,
cooled by the bay waters,
my heaving breast with heated, tufted appetite
of which your own diminished,
if only I had known how lonesome you would become,
homesick for desert ranges,
revealed in your yellow eyes waxing
and mid-section hollowing,
to an unknown Moon, a harrowing howl,
then I would not have bewitched you
with my symphonic sea song,
circling overhead as a shadow winging white.

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