Leap

Leap

For hare, coyote’s mouth is a box of blades

a perfect fit

around slope of ear and curve 

of leg 

as if meant for this alone. It’s tempting

to make meaning

of the dividing and scattering, of how

a fan of bleached metatarsals

becomes a small wing

when set among yellow birch leaves 

and red rowan berry, or how

each fine bone laid 

across one hand

feeds a great river of love and rage

but that tale has been told. 

Besides, the heart of any story

whether toothed, scaled

or taloned

arrives in the moment no box can hold

no teeth can tear

no scattering 

can overcome. Beyond 

the bladed mouths

on tidal-fed thermals moving like flames

another heart is rising 

out of time, out of step

redefining belonging 

like a hare given wings

whose leap brings endings

as another begins.