Day 6: Sea Monkeys Have an Expiration Date

Okay, so I can't take credit for this title.  It's the prompt from my poem-a-day group.  Today's poem continues my trend of having animals in each of the poems I write.  This one features coyotes.  Hope you enjoy!

Sea Monkeys Have an Expiration Date

Last night, slice of moon startled the window.
Mercy of cool air, cleaved in two, and darkness
pressing from behind like a false promise.
These days we don’t sleep well.  Coyotes braid their
staccato screams together into air.
You’d think the air would saturate: reach a
point when no more sounds could compound into
its dark ear.  But, lying here, half asleep,
the sounds trifle, layer up, a swarm of crickets
in its glass belly, then the moans of far off cars,
the wrinkle of a tarp left out to gather wind,
the clink of a metal clasp against a metal pole,
and then the coyotes, so many it seems,
the hills been overrun.  We have become
tenants to their nightly follies.  A mere
audience of bodies, laid out on the cool sheets
waiting for breath of air; waiting for the shock
of the moon to remind of our place in this world.