One corvid night you will fail 
to re-wild the endangered catamounts

of your mind: there a mother drags
her cubs back from their clumsy hunt, 

in over their heads. After they nurse 
and slumber, she edges the highway 

for a kill. No Rilken dance. No
entrapment: She freezes at the rumble 

of an incoming rig: once high-beams 
reveal her green-eyed refraction, it’s over.