Aubade With Foxes

All night foxes ranged over the snow crust
barking raggedly. This morning

a warm rain softens the snow and dumbly
I watch my love sweep it off the windshield

and drive away. I'm in the road in little more
than underwear, suspended in the edgy bliss

of exhaust with two flights of stairs to climb.
In dens nearby the coiled foxes lick

their teeth in sleep and cover their eyes
with bushy white-tipped tails. When I

go inside, my bare feet leave curved wet marks
on the stairway's metal treads. A fox

will arc along a wall knowing the stone
won't hold her scent. When a fox runs in leaves

her sound is a rustle of leaves. No one is looking
or listening for me. Nearby a bell hits its notes.

Which version of heaven will feed me
until my love comes home? In one, I understand

what the foxes say. In the other, the foxes
find what they want and are quiet with it.



Reprinted with the permission of the author. All rights reserved.