Eschatalogy

I pluck
bones from coyote
scat.

the strings
of my guitar
vibrate
the litter
on the forest
floor.

the pups
eyes
open to the sounds
of deep dank
dirt.

the notes
pull
hard
inside my fingers
grow green
with rain
crow calls
blue jay answers
hawk soars
over
all.

Coyote scat
a knot
of guts
two rodent ribs
and the strings
of my guitar.