Monday, November 10, 2008

at the dump

Bottle-brush fox
you find an easy meal here, but it’s doing you no favours
your coat dead, your eyes dull glass

Garbage-bin fox
so far from home you are, so far
you have forgotten the taste of fear
so you stand near the bumper of a car,
a patient dumpster-diver
wondering
what feast these people might have brought

Junk food fox
your head swings round slowly to meet
my surprised gaze with the unintelligent look
of a video-game drunk teenager

and when the children see you, they speak
not of wonder
at having caught sight of a sliver
of wilderness mystery,
but of a tentative dream of rehabilitation

and like this, you are reborn
in our stories


Rachel Westfall
November 10, 2008

4 comments:

Kyddryn said...

Your children are beautiful...I adore the way they think.

Shade and Sweetwater,
K

RachelW said...

They would heal the world, if they could.

Crafty Green Poet said...

sorry for not commenting on this sooner, its a very moving story, well observed.

RachelW said...

Thanks for commenting! I find stuff gets buried on the blog so quickly. Not sure how to format or index it better.