Previously published in ‘Renegade”
Wolf eyes, fox eyes,
I see you glare at the sun
then wag your tail,
uncertain how to begin your escape.
Let me tell you the ways I’ve found;
I’ve jumped the fence more than once myself.
Lay on your belly and wriggle under
the wall in the furthest corner of your brain.
Think like water,
run down the hill in a puddle.
Make yourself small,
slip past where the steel wires meet.
Or think like air, and simply rise up,
over the houses and treetops,
with your eyes fixed on a distant cloud.
Don’t spend your life at the end of a leash.
Fly to the hills. Bay at the moon.
Leave them wondering how you did it.