Mary Tallmountain now deceased but from Alaska. Poet laureate in the early 90s.... Her Ode to the wolf as she was hospitalized for cancer 

THE LAST WOLF

the last wolf hurried towards me through the ruined city and I heard the baying echoes down the steep smashed warrans of Montgomery Street and past the few ruby crowned high-rises  left standing

the lighted elevators useless

passing the flicking red and green of traffic signals buying his way easward in the mystery of his wild loping gait

closer the sounds in the deadly night through the clutter and rubble of quiet blocks

I heard his voice ascending the hill and at last his low whine as he came floor by empty floor to the room where I sat in my narrow bed looking west

I heard him snuffle at the door and I watched as he trotted across the floor

he laid his long gray muzzle on the spare wide spread and his eyes turned yellow

his dotted eyebrows quivered

Yes.. I said I know what they have done!