National Poetry Month--Outside Your House at Midnight, Coyote

"Outside Your House at Midnight, Coyote" is the 6th in my sequence of Coyote poems for #NationalPoetryMonth. It was the second one written, however. "3 O'Clock in the Morning, Alone" was the first I'd written with the Coyote avatar. Several years later, my youngest son had inveigled me into watching the TV series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and a sizzling scene of a lovesick Spike watching outside Buffy's window at night inspired me to write this poem. And this one then unleashed several others.


 OUTSIDE YOUR HOUSE AT MIDNIGHT, COYOTE

stands in shadows, only the red eye

of his cigarette showing his presence.

He watches lights in windows

downstairs and your silhouette

against curtains as you move

from room to room, readying for bed.

He grinds cigarette into the ground

with his boot, to join the others

littering the spot where he lurks,

across the street, vacant lot,

under trees along the fence line.

As you switch off lights,

room by room, and climb stairs

to your bed, Coyote moves out

of the shadows, closer to you

by a few feet more. The outer rays

of the light on the corner

catch his sharp features, golden hair,

the hunger on his face.

He watches your light click on upstairs.

Closing his eyes, Coyote can see within

your walls as you undress and slide under

covers. Tendons in his neck stand out,

rigid with tension, and he swallows his own

wanting with pain. He opens his eyes

to the dark again, watches your last light

wink out, whispers something so soft

even he won’t hear, stays to witness

the vulnerability of your restless body.

Sleep. Coyote’s standing watch.

Published in Heart’s Migration (Tia Chucha Press, 2009)