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  • I wonder at the symbolism of foxes.
    Only since the other night
    when we sat on top of a hill in the dark,
    affirming life among the dead.

    Anyway, it's only since then --
    since that fox came out of the
    darkening and walked slowly past us,
    soft on his feet and so very catlike, only
    that white-tipped tail giving him away --
    that I've thought of foxes at all.

    They must have some meaning
    (I mean, everything does), but
    what exactly? And
    who decides?
    The internet will have those answers when I'm ready,
    when I want the fox to be something more
    than the reason
    you lifted your face up and kissed me.
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