Yellow Fox
A fox quietly sits
Looking out of the window
A 12-storey high-rise
Asphalt atoms, hanging down
All his pieces
Into a loop of chipped rain
A suburban pipe dream
Anxious, gleams brown
But his strange fur ears
Curl from a stinging lullaby
That he knows well
Derelict but wilful
A blade of sodium vapour light
Grazes his feral heart
A fox is a little afraid
He laughs at the edge of
An impossible forest
Clouded by a familiar song
All in my head, he says
Except the air of that room
Cuts with a tender refrain
And the typewriter smells of frost
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