Vixen

by Giovanna MacKenna


Soft, salt red, russet, brown
bracken, fern to fur, basking
baking sun-struck aglow
a twist of life, snug
amongst the debris
beauty brandished against
a backdrop of waste.

Circled, tucked and twisted
her brush of bristles arm,
danger-pricked, she slips
from sleep to stealth, flips
up, white flashes, pads planted
breaking browning grasses.

Eyes sharpen, holding us
fixing, fastened on until
We are dismissed, disregarded,
dumped as swiftly as the
debris that floats beyond her feet.