Prairie half-moon gazes;
Coyotes spread the star-sky
As thin as unfed flesh.
Their silken screams rise.

I move too close:
The knotted desert rocks
Snap, crumble underfoot.
Quiet night, where are you?

My algid nightmare thrives:
I am the barren Jew,
The wailful wanderer
Raped in a dry land.

My eyes widen to catch
Its silhouette. Crest light
Teases these lids to sleep —
Only to see the darker half.

©Copyright 1972, renewed 1998, by Alyssa A. Lappen, first published by Switched-on Gutenberg, Vol. 3, No. 2, 1998

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