In the backyard, when one
trips the motion sensor, another

raccoon freezes, netted now
by the wince of unwanted

light, while the first, banded tail
bouncing, dissolves into

the blackness. With a clutch
of distant thunder in my belly,

I realize it’s been stationed there
for some time, supple coat

disheveled by rain, watching me,
perhaps wondering what

this human, face obscured
by weeks of scruff, is doing

at this assassin’s hour, perched
inside his kitchen’s bay window,

no mug of herbal tea for comfort,
no turn toward a breaking

voice saying please just come
back to bed. For two minutes,

in drizzle-softened light,
we inhabit a hungry solitude,

eyes yoked, sharing the faltering
orbit of abandonment, me

wishing I spoke raccoon
so I could shout through the glass

to ask its business, if it’s brought
news. Then the guillotine

of darkness—my companion
snuffed out, me squinting

into the rain, still holding fast
to what was there.

Contributor’s Notes

Faisal Mohyuddin is the author of The Displaced Children of Displaced Children (Eyewear Publishing, 2018) and the chapbook The Riddle of Longing (Backbone Press, 2017). He teaches English at Highland Park High School in Illinois and creative writing at Northwestern University, and he serves as a master practitioner with the global not-for-profit Narrative 4. www.faisalmohyuddin.com