Poetry
by Phil Brown
FLYING FOX
You encumbered fox,
Small dark gentleman
Pulled out of a box
By a woman on the television.
Half-satin and half-mink,
Squirming and grappling upside down;
You are, I think,
Really quite extraordinary.
You've come out wrong somehow,
Black, covered with hair
And blown inside out
Like a small umbrella bear.
You hang crumpled like
An overgrown rodent with folding joints.
The audience is repelled;
One lady points.
You eat fruit and fly.
You wake at dusk and rise.
Great fleeting, floating dark blankets
Of you block the skies.
On the television the lady
Pulled you out of a box by magic,
Like some magicians rabbit,
Dark and tragic.
Half-bat, half-fox,
Half-found, half-lost;
A little pot pourri of creation,
A sweet little piece of damnation.
by Phil Brown
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