when i was little someone
tied a big white bag to a tree in my woods
and it scared me through the window.
now there’s a fox and my
mom told me it was just a bag
but now there’s a fox. i know
it’s a fox. she said ten years ago
that it was just a bag, but
bags can kill, can’t they?
isn’t there a big red warning?
but if it’s just a bag, then
it must be just a fox.
i shouldn’t be scared of it or bags or
dying or the little girl who’s mother
let her choke on plastic. a fox is just a fox
a girl is just a girl and thus
i welcome the glass in its teeth.
good morning fox, i have come
to learn harmlessness.