by Norbert Krapf
They say coyotes slink
all the way downtown
in this Midwestern city
and sleep curled up in doorways
of shops. I wouldn’t mind seeing
one as we have no dogs or cats,
inside or out, but so far it’s been
only rabbits and peregrine falcons,
one of which our cigarette-inhaling
son saw take out a plump pigeon,
feathers settling on pink roses.
Maybe at night when no moon
shines they trot past our door,
not satisfied with tiny chipmunks,
and take their sly unending hunt
elsewhere up and down dim streets
sniffing for larger, more appetizing
live meat padding in the dark.
Norbert Krapf, former Indiana poet laureate, has recently published his 12th poetry collection, The Return of Sunshine, about his Colombian-German-American grandson. He is completing a collection of poems for children and a prose memoir about his writing life, Homecomings.