I Used To Be A Fox
To be a fox again, slender was my frame for once in my adult years,
the fat of my gluttony shed for a moment, like the athletic child I'd been.
Still, so hungry I bit and bat at the terrified rabbits, snapping a neck,
and so I began to eat a dear old friend of mine, none the wiser, poor Julia.
On the eve of our downfall, the cities stopped their incessant buzzing,
Rockets froze in the air, vapour and fire became a beautiful thing.
Some tired, bored creator, caught in a moment of whimsy,
Shifted our souls from one thing to the next, a wonderful game it must have been.
As a grasshopper, I perched on a tear in a paper door, playing my n