Dead Fox - Poem by GRANT FRASER
Poor Fox, you've decomposed so much
now, I took it upon myself to bury
you...in a deep hollow of the old sea wall...
I lifted boulders up from the waterside,
one at a time, I was sweating all over,
and the cuffs on my blue jacket got
covered in all kinds of crap,
While an old schooner sailed by,
without a mast, out of the corner of my eye,
tiny figures all whooping and cheering!
Two lovers rifled past, glaring at the dead
red fur, 'yes - once more orange than a sunrise! '
Yeah! the light had gone out - real bad weather
we'd had, couldn't ascertain what had happened?
And I wonder if it's the same fox I spied one
morning, while waiting for the early crew van,
Off course - I made some friendly dog banter,
and the blasted beautiful fox so lightly footed
comes right up, to find a startled me, hand empty!
I doubt I'll ever get as close again, until today,
but you are dead, and the best I can offer,
is to fumble, hoist you up by that great soft brush
of a tail...
Then I struggle getting you in the hole...
Your floppy legs wouldn't quite go,
And the side you'd been lying on was so rank,
maggot infested, rotten, my nostrils imploded!
But once I got you in, I was partly glad!
went down, washed my hands methodically, in a rock pool,
the sea water felt good, then I picked up my camera & bag,
and climbed back up, walked past again, with a funereal air,
muttered something holy, can't quite remember?
Comments about Dead Fox by GRANT FRASER
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
William Ernest Henley
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night