if the river calls me

It was that rancid smell that made me drive
her off. Damn! What a foul stench! Of course she

fought and cried. Of course. How would she survive
on her own? Who would take in a dirty

thing like her? No one, I am sure. That smell
of hers just wouldn’t wash off. No. Call me

a beast, if you will. Say that there’s a hell
for bad parents who desert their needy

children. I’m sure there is but I don’t care.
What was I going to do with her? Me!

I am no believer in myths. A prayer
only works if someone hears it and we

are deaf. Abandoned down by the river;
she is human now, a fox no longer.