Poem: “Ms. Fox”

Ms. Fox

He finds her trembling in a bush, behind a spangle
of moonlit branches, panting, fox eyes glowing.
Her round face, sagging with spinsterhood,
suddenly turned savagely youthful.
He comes upon her, and her head dips and cocks,
her ears picking up the rippling of the stream,
a woman whistling as she hung the laundry,
the lazy flight of a June bug. Do you hear it?
she barks, her eyes and the tip of her nose black.
In the morning, before a lengthening light,
he watches her brush the sleep from her hair,
looking longingly into the pane of her own eyes.
He looks at his exposed belly, scalloped thighs.
The night before, his body made of sleeves
of bone, her teeth at his neck,
the cold making the hair of her stomach, erect
like fur, how she twisted against him, clawed at him,
then tore off, as if chasing some prey.

-Appeared in issue 19 of Spillway

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