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Fox Edges

 


Fox Edges

At the fox edge of the shelf, in the shadows
Where the pages are wheat fields in autumn
Where the sun's daydreams lie as dust;
In that corner, worlds sleep, laminate covers
Pressed close, wormholes forming, fading.
Remember crossing the delta to the river
Where moons hung heavy, a crewel silhouette
Of an old station leaning over the waterway?
Knock on one, remembering a village, homely 
Houses deep in the afternoon, where the whispers
Turn into other rivers running by new waters.
Everything running into summer pools
Where I'll be swimming in the ink,
At the fox edge of the shelf, in the shadows.  

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