blood call ~ Beluah Vega

beneath the suburban silence

in   between   cricket   chirps,

cycling in the

calm-chaos-calm

of light traffic – sirens- far-away train

in the echo of every canine nail as they

click * click * click *

along the cold sidewalk 

pulling computer-weary owners 

on one more daily commute.

there in the soft rustle of white oak leaves

after a triumphant squirrel 

cheeks packed with black oil sunflower seeds, 

has darted into its heartwood burrow 

safe from hungry owls and vengeful humans.

in the downbeat of my heart. 

slipping coyly through my rolling veins.

impregnating the oxygen-starved blood

meant to stabilize the asynchronous

rhythm in my inner ear.

some nights when the street lights dim, 

and the moon shows its full hungry face

the sound floods my skin, bones, tendons, organs, 

reverberating through my marrow until I shake 

with the call 

those are the nights I dart through the artificial grass

to my drywall burrow, hoping

it’s thick enough to shield me

from the Coyote God’s call. 

to keep my willing knees off  his sacrificial altar

to the hungry howling moon.