Artwork: A Girl and Her Dog by Will Jacques


coyotes run faster than wolves
Marisca Pichette

phase moon
     clouds don’t matter
sand black, shadow spines
     cactus nights.

I thought I could survive
     I could live
away from them –

gnaw bones
     fire crackle like skin
simmering future dreams
     veiled in smoke.

flames die, stones cool
and I’m sightless again,
     listening

to silence and silence
     and howl.
howl-yelp-snarl
     I hold baited breath:

the pack knows my scent
     and lying alone
with no fur to hide me now

this last night only
I am myself.

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(Little) Red
Marisca Pichette

Beauty is misleading.
They said I am Beautiful
And they may be right.

I disagree, however,
That I am theirs.

Beauty cannot be
Kept.

Even the reddest rose
Has thorns –

The better to draw the reddest
Blood.

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A seal is born with two skins, and keeps only one
Marisca Pichette

When I asked you to hold my coat
you waved me down the sand,
your ankles flecked with salt
and only waves interrupting
your silhouette, waving still.

I came ashore pimpled and shivering
following the indentations
your feet had been. I needed
my skin then, sky darkening
and ocean starting its wail.

Searching the rocks I found you
waving, your ankles vanished under my velvet
hem not meant for you. Your eyes blackened,
triumphant as you swam away
and left me

naked.