Full moon
in Yellowstone--
The Jackalope returns.
I sit on the porch
in Grandma’s rocking chair,
shotgun across my chest,
Thor, my grey tabby
by my side, ears perched,
discomforted.
I hear the wolves howl.
The mountains rattle
as the Jackalopes feast.
Come morning,
the rangers ask, where
have all the wolves gone?
I shrug and swig
my last whiskey shot,
as I bolt my door
And head to the attic,
waiting
for the long night to start.