May 4, 2022
Axis II, by Jenny Janzer (MostPulp Press, undated)
Blue Coyote
Orange-crusted slices of blue clouds cluster around the sun-beaten horizon, the rusting remains of nights’ spectacular contrast. Open highway, bare as starvation and the thin slink of the coyote, blue backed, scraggled grays and slow.
He saunters across the asphalt’s chalk and dew through the reeds that shoot like mis-shaven knee-hair. He glides like oil against the paling light, into the thick of rough shades, something like a life made of greens that tell us, “GO.”
The blue coyote spins a thin swindling trot so you barely know he is there, much like me, weaving freely through concrete veins and dashed lines, only following the blue and purple sky, like a bruise from last night.
