Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Lone Wolf

by Ilene Millman            

No revenants climb the shoulder
of rock
only you
far from home     a transient in shabby overcoat
running past all ability to breathe
busted radio collar hanging from your neck.
Last time anyone caught
even a glimpse of you prowling
the north rim of Grand Canyon, FDR was president.
How many miles crossing iron-stained cliffs
pulled by earth’s pole         mineral scents     
soil   water   blood.
On the plateau tonight, no shadows fall 
there is only light
drawn out of midnight
out of daybreak’s rise 
and you     
hungry   sore
the world narrowed down to this
as it is     however it is.

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