And the day’s journey takes the whole long day
until the slow dark time begins, then in
gardens and the darkening pines the stray
lonely things with ancient speech, their fur-skin
pale from lack of love, destitute monsters,
honey in the eye, bottle of bones, curl
in the lip and claw, wake. Wake, wake, lovers,
death I am, ginger girl, girl-o-moon, girl
who fell in love with a fox. The ghost fox,
sombre and soothing, in the moon. No dog
can catch. No cat can worry. The lamppost’s
light does not shine for you. Fox of mohawks,
switchblades, kick boots. Until the first dawn’s fog
and all night long. I’m in love with a ghost.