Coyote

I Am Coyote, Trickster,

Clown, Androgyne.

When man is chief, I Am Mischief.

When womban is center,

I Am lone wolf, guarding the borders.

When the arts sleep, drugged,

I dance under the moon,

and My howling fills the night with stars.

When violence washes its hands in lies,

I stick My nose in every taboo.

Everything is My business,

just another trick.

I find survival in the strangest places. 

I crawl down every hole,

tumbling reality with Me,

head-over-heels into vision.

I suckle surprise at My teats,

My tail a question mark.

I mate for life,

a marriage of opposites

that begins in Myself,

and includes the universe:

all My Relations.

My rough tongue tickles,

a naughty lover.

I smile with the sharp teeth

of the Grandmother.

Scavenger, avenger,

uprooting every grave,

I find the lost bones

of re-membering.

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018