coyote

      Men—
            Of my age—
        Are fur-lined in an oddly ornate mange;

    Proud,
Coyote-sage,
      Yet hid-at-home on our range.

          Strange,
    This gateless cage—
        This rage-unwashable shroud.

            When,
                By stormcloud,
          Might I free that sweet pup in me again?