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
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


Kyddryn said...

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

Shade and Sweetwater,

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.