What is it about foxes

that I would stand windswept

in December on a far reach

of island, summoning

a bristle-glimpse of tail,

triangular face, flash of red

or black in the rabbited field?

Something I cannot hold

holds me, my heart yapping

beneath my coat, the corners

of my eyes tearing in the winter

air. And the one whose trotting

body appears over the rise

is so far away, I feel myself

leaning against the wind,

my hand reaching out toward

what will never turn and come.


Also by Brittney Corrigan

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