Anamorphosis Of The Fox Poem by nicky kelly

A y, syzygy of the milk, makes the way clear
From an imperfect myrrh to the guardian matron’s teat.
A jade cockade
shuts up the drunk fox aims too high.

By a long longing to such a brief
encounter no moon has a share in
the achieved emptiness. So does the sour
conscious panoply with the saint’s foolishness

whose fake profile tries reaching in a wine
cellar than in the vineyard the one
loved. But let us tie the sage to the cross
bars and the fabulist tell us nonsense

now when all is plain is deceptive.
The fox didn’t steal but the breast makes clean
of the loophole in the attentive
trap. Cut fine only the pensive point of view of the tail