The Dead Coyote

I pulled my car up to
a post marker off the side of the highway,
and there hung a dead coyote.
Its head was tied to the post
with bailing wire,
His face was covered in blood
and his glassy eyes were still open,
staring at the broken sky.
its tongue was hanging out and drizzling.

I feel anger and sorrow for
this creature who was murdered
I wanted to untie his body,
and bury his soul somewhere remote.
a secret place where he could rest.

The coyote, a friend
but they stuck him on display
and wasted his life away.
They cut his ears off at the base
for some sort of bounty for the local BLM.

I can't stop seeing into those glassy eyes,
and into the shadows of the beast.
Hopelessly hanging there,
fur whipping in the wind.
I'm connected to its death.
cold blood moving.
the breathing is brittle and short.

As I looked at you coyote,
I felt the sorrow of this world.

Those damned cowboy men with chewing tobacco,
leaving their beer can trails all over,
are bloody murderers and thieves
of this ancient land. They mock the
very soul of this beautiful wild.
 

By Nathan Cowlishaw

All Right Reserved

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