Monday, March 4, 2013


Blank In The In-Box--An Illusive Red Fox


'No subject' it states.
Nothing rattling around?
No loves or hates?
Nothing found?
It's too late
for this sort of go-round,
to be rounding the plate.


The plate is still empty,
slate--woefully clean.
Nothing to tempt me
when nothing is seen.
No one's standing sentry.
Where, oh where have I been?
What was it that sent me

back to this blank in the box?
Just to fill in the space,
chase an illusive red fox
from letter to letter space,
till words stand in lock-
step, and sentences trace
the halting path to a stopping place?


I remember--It was a dream--
A red fox slipped out of the wood by the stream,
silent, swift, crossed the field--a short, sharp scream!
The cold Winter moon lit up the scene:
bloody imprints in a circle where two creatures had been,
and all around that plate, the snow remained pristine,
clean as this blank page on my screen. 

1 comment:

Mo Crow said...

beautiful spare words