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"Untitled" by Gray Hiatt



On Friday I drove the Mountain

The fox ran

from his den in the blackberry brambles

right in front of my car.

He looked at me with his yellow eyes

I wonder if he feels guilty.

In the ripe months of summer

he must find something to eat

I wonder if fox enjoys the feeling of a fresh kill.

He is sure in his movements

He is not afraid of the headlights of the car

We watch

each other for a split second

And I am so afraid of scaring him off

I fumble in my movements.

At night I sit in the grass

and pray to something bigger

The Trees want to whisper their secrets,

The crickets want to sing their songs.

I am desperately clinging

onto the meaning of something

begging for the body & the blood

wanting to fill & be filled

I am guilty of many things

Perhaps the bird will forgive me

There is a wild thing

In my Chest

(The fox) is hungry

It must kill sooner or later

after all, a fox is a sinful creature

-Gray Hiatt, 11



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