Watching the Foxes
The young mother does not know how to live
without a mother. Shipwrecked by grief,
she can barely wake herself, feed the baby.
There’s still so much she doesn’t know—
There’s still so much she doesn’t know—
the recipe for meatball soup, or how to make the baby
stop eating dirt. They never did get a good volley
stop eating dirt. They never did get a good volley
going on the tennis court.
Her mother is pages of a sunken diary,
Her mother is pages of a sunken diary,
waterlogged, ink bleeding everywhere.
Her mother is a locked door with another door behind it.
Her mother is a locked door with another door behind it.
