Foxes Screaming

By _jacobea_

Wed, 30 Jan 2008
  • 1226 reads
2 comments
 

From where I sit,
Writing this,
Minding my own business,
I can hear the foxes screaming

They, the foxes, live down the road,
Around the corner, somewhere out back
Once there was a den in the garden mess
Next door, for they never get rid of it

One summer, years ago, I even found a cub’s skull
Amongst that winter’s litter, near the fence we share
The foxes have moved since then,
And now I can hear them, far away

However, you rarely see the living creature with its beating heart
Their feasting, yes, on Wednesday morning before the dustman comes,
As you and I walk down the street, on the pavements there are
Potato peelings, curry leftovers, wrappers and papers, their traces

At this time of year, January, cold and windy,
Sometimes wet, you might catch sight of one,
Slinking through the evening fog, looking for food,
Their cubs born already

Writing this now,
I have come to realise that the foxes are different-
They’ve gotten bolder and more vocal-maybe they’re just used to us now,
Or it’s mating season at quarter past five, dark just fallen,

I can hear those foxes now, in fact, right this minute,
They are barking at moon, howling at the stars that are coming out,
Before now I’ve even thought that I’ve heard an owl hoot, just a little while ago too,
But it’s only the foxes, our foxes, which live on Mild May Road

Certificate PG
Nonsensical Things
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by markbrown on
I love foxes. There was a fox on the decking at the back our house this morning, looking in through the french doors. I think you might need to do two things with this. First, I'd suggest reading up on foxes and fox lore, they're fantastic animals that have played a big part in folklore across the world. This might open out your poem a bit, because it's a bit fuzzy at the minute. Second thing: Try and get the next draft more precise and generally 'less'. They've obviously beguiled you, now the task is to do them justice. Good stuff. Cheers, Mark

 

Submitted by tcook on
I hate the darn things, being a country boy! They ate my chickens when I was a kid and now they terrify my cats in our urban garden. They live in the Old People's Home behind us and the pensioners feed them. They make a foul noise, a horrible stink and are now so blasted nerveless they even sit in the garden with us until I hurl something at them. Stephen Gardiner once wrote on these forums about the urban hunt he was going to set up. Bring it down here, I say!