Cibola 77

Esteban (4) (conclusion)

She’s gone. He collects
his scattered clothes–through
what magic had she
recovered hers?
his thigh still tingles from
a sudden brush of fur.
He kicks sand
to put the fire out–to hell
with any more tracking
–& feels
his way back in the half-
dark of gibbous moonlight,
avoiding the shadows.

When he slips into camp
everyone’s asleep & the fire’s
down to coals, as if it’s been hours.
One of the greyhounds works his jaws,
whines a little. Esteban kneels,
reaches down to stroke his head

& stops, noticing that his eyes
remain shut & his feet twitch
in sequence–the unmistakable
rhythm of the chase.

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