We came upon them on the rise:
three coyotes staring back.
At first my brain computed golden retrievers,
they were that big.
They stood unflinching
in the last of the arbutus and dry grass
just past the flagging tape
for the absentee-owner luxury homes.
It was up to us to back away
and find a different trail.
I dreamed of them for days.
One came down the mountain and rang the bell.
Her sharp coyote face peered
through the side glass, a vain petition
in her narrowed jaws.
Copyright © Kirsten Pendreigh. Originally published in subTerrain (#79: Bye-Bye Vancouver).
Kirsten Pendreigh’s poems also appear in Arc Poetry, Prairie Fire, CV2, Juniper Poetry, Sustenance Anthology (Anvil Press) and Another Dysfunctional Cancer Poem Anthology (Mansfield Press). Kirsten won the 2018 Pandora’s Collective Poetry Contest. Connect with her on Twitter @kpiependreigh.
subTerrain is published 3 times a year from modest offices just off of Main Street in Vancouver, BC. We strive to produce a stimulating fusion of fiction, poetry, photography and graphic illustration from uprising Canadian, U.S. & International writers and artists.
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