Pamela Hobart Carter
A Group of Coyotes is Called a Band
Suppose you wake to high pitches in asynchronous mix of alto and soprano, before full consciousness you know it’s coyotes on the next knoll and there’s no use running to the window for confirmation when black of meadow spreads below, the road rests empty—lampless, fireflies sleep, and the moon hides new besides. You imagine the singers shoulder-to-shoulder licking their lips, pink tongues lolling between fangs as they lope. Rabbits’ tall ears catch the mid-night choir, lanky legs sprint. In your inkdark room, you hope first for the prey and then for the predator. Every musician deserves to feast. |
After she earned two geology degrees, Pamela Hobart Carter became a teacher. Her plays have been produced in Seattle (her home), Montreal (her childhood home), and Fort Worth. Carter has been nominated for The Pushcart Prize and The Best of the Net (2x), won her high school essay contest (a million years ago), and is a Yavanika Press mixed-genre chapbook winner for Behind the Scenes at the Eternal Everyday. Her other poetry chaps: Her Imaginary Museum and Held Together with Tape and Glue. Website: https://playwrightpam.wordpress.com/