Hoof

^{—after Psalm 89, lines 26–35}

Is it that I have had a richness 
of choices, have I gazelled 
sideways from one riverstone to the next?

         Or has this been a series 
         of false starts—
         the hoof withdrawn 
         at the slightest snow?

         January’s Wolf Moon calls her pups 
         into the night—marks 
their necessary kill. We all
need to eat

even in snow—hoof paused 
over the water—my heart says
trust—my tracks say 
doubt