Dream Fox

Not the five tiny black birds that flew
out from behind the mirror
over the washstand,

nor the raccoon that crept
out of the hamper,

nor even the opossum that hung
from the ceiling fan

troubled me half so much as
the fox in the bathtub.

There's a wildness in our lives.
We need not look for it.

That's wrong too.
It finds us.

It finds us,
naked and alone,

in unfamiliar bathrooms,
wiping the grit from our eyes,

waiting for the first signs
that we're back among the living.

I catch him beneath his forelegs and lift.
"Don't bite me," I say. Says he, "I'll bite you."

Copyright © 2007 Jack Roberts All rights reserved
from Tar River Poetry
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission