How coyote packs sing on the dark hill
as we all keep rolling toward morning
while soldiers rumble across borders
in dusty trucks with numbers painted out.
How morning travels over the mountains
and we wake and sigh and drive to work
and feed each other cakes on holidays.
How we scrabble through days, our growls
comprehensible in many tongues and able
to be written down. How because we hoped,
we invented despair.