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The Cat, the Coyote and the Crow
by Laura LeHew

There were signs–
the tuxedo cat, his tiny face pressed
naked against the paned glass
of the window
ears flat against the hail;

smallest of the wolves, coyote,
arises from the soil a tawny warrior
who stares me in the eye
lopes westward
never looking back;

in the tart flood of wind swept apples
a single crow alights
a long stemmed Black Beauty
gorged with disarray
chants stormy incantations

contrary to the echo
of a woman.


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