The Cemetery Fox Poem by Mark Heathcote

The cemetery fox is a living resident
sneaking around like a whisper
aware of every resonant
-itch of sound.
Moving around like a beatnik phantom
shadow of an ageless time.
Swirling around like the autumn-
leaves impoverished
the fox has a mystic craft
in the cemetery of death
a-craft a spell over life
and death, nocturnal like a distant star.

This fox might hide-its-troubles well
as it steals and borrows the morrow
from another's malnourished bones
in a coat, we all-marvel-at especially
its distinctive bushy red tail
swirling around like a ginger Persian cat
disappearing into a distant urban shadow
where a cockroach hisses
and shakes its unwelcoming red tail
in the eye socket of a sleeping woman
who never wakes but desires?
Desires-to-warm own cheek's eating cornbread
today and tomorrow with a foxy smile.