Sometimes You Kill

To the south, dark skies copulate with sand billowing up. Purple gray and black mix with silica and mountain tops fade. There, a black caricature of a mangled animal enters at left limping across the sand with evil aspirations. My little animal is too far for me as I try to speak. The black coyote is coming closer, increasing in size. Usually the site of coyote is a pleasing one. Now language fails me. The black coyote becomes grey as it sets yellow eyes on me. It snarls and I choke on words, breathing, “Get inside. Please get in now!” 

Never stare down a beautiful animal but this what I do as I reach for a shovel.


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