Esteban (4) (conclusion)
She’s gone. He collects
his scattered clothes–through
what magic had she
recovered hers? And
his thigh still tingles from
a sudden brush of fur.
He kicks sand
to put the fire out–to hell
with any more tracking–& feels
his way back in the half-
dark of gibbous moonlight,
avoiding the shadows.
When he slips into camp
everyone’s asleep & the fire’s
down to coals, as if it’s been hours.
One of the greyhounds works his jaws,
whines a little. Esteban kneels,
reaches down to stroke his head
& stops, noticing that his eyes
remain shut & his feet twitch
in sequence–the unmistakable
rhythm of the chase.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Cibola 1
- Cibola 2
- Cibola 3
- Cibola 4
- Cibola 5
- Cibola 6
- Cibola 7
- Cibola 8
- Cibola 9
- Cibola 10
- Cibola 11
- Cibola 12
- Cibola 13
- Cibola 14
- Cibola 15
- Cibola 16
- Cibola 17
- Cibola 18
- Cibola 19
- Cibola 20
- Cibola 21
- Cibola 22
- Cibola 23
- Cibola 24
- Cibola 25
- Cibola 26
- Cibola 27
- Cibola 28
- Cibola 29
- Cibola 30
- Cibola 31
- Cibola 32
- Cibola 33
- Cibola 34
- Cibola 35
- Cibola 36
- Cibola 37
- Cibola 77
- Cibola 38
- Cibola 40
- Cibola 41
- Cibola 42
- Cibola 43
- Cibola 44
- Cibola 45
- Cibola 46
- Cibola 47
- Cibola 48
- Cibola 49
- Cibola 50
- Cibola 51
- Cibola 52
- Cibola 53
- Cibola 54
- Cibola 55
- Cibola 56
- Cibola 57
- Cibola 58
- Cibola 59
- Cibola 60
- Cibola 61
- Cibola 62
- Cibola 63
- Cibola 64
- Cibola 65
- Cibola 66
- Cibola 67
- Cibola 68
- Cibola 69
- Cibola 70
- Cibola 71
- Cibola 72
- Cibola 73
- Cibola 74
- Cibola 75