Trickster Glimmer

I glimpse glimmers of fame

in the night,

beasts ablaze with my name

and chance light,

yet these coyotes flee

down the road

as if to deprive me

of their gold

leading me on and on

without end,

their fur like a new dawn

round each bend

in never-ending flight

through the dark,

their will o ’ the wisp light

but a lark

leading me to the glen

where they go —

they turn toward me, then,

all aglow,

and bare their snarling teeth,

thirsty throats,

and laugh at my grief;

cruel notes.

They circle round and round

in their game,

the hunter now prey found:

such is fame.

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