the coyotes howl
each a different rhythm
pitch and volume
and together
one painful wail
the need so deep
it doesn’t stop
at the edge of darkness
but enters the shadow
of my own poverty
mine a lifelong desperation
of what’s and why’s
except in whimpers and whines
domesticated as I am
polite as I’m trained to be
in a continuation of hope that
whatever is out there has ears
and a voice I’ve still
yet to hear
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