The Fox Trap Poem by Ban Sidhe

I'm caught! My soul held fast!

The trap sprung closed with a finality of sound
so vast that it would not be heard until years later

If at all….

It's sweet pain
when it came
It's cruelness defined by its self-inflicted nature
Crashed full upon me!

How could I not remember?
The loathing of the boy?
The loathing of the man?
The loathing of myself?
It was all the same.

I married us….

HE walks through the door talking
of a fox HE sees in the wood
its paw mangled from one of HIS traps.

I think for a moment
HE's talking about me
I wonder if maybe I've been wondering the wood
instead of here beating this lump of dough
I call by HIS name

I tell HIM
'Pie's about done'

HE asks what kind

I tell HIM
'Last years 'put up' blueberries'

HE grabs HIS gun

And for a moment I can't breath.
All I want to do is scream

'Shoot Me Damn It! '

Anything to stop this pain even for a bit….

Then HE leaves again.

I take my pie out of its hell
And put it on the rack.

I look at my own flour-covered paw.

I think 'lucky fox' as
I chew it off with
molten blueberry teeth.