Fox by Caki Wilkinson

View this email on a browser Forward to a friend January 7, 2015   Fox   Caki Wilkinson

The yards grow ghosts. Between the limbs and wings, bleached street-lit things, I’m best at moving on. Hunt-heavy, gray, slunk overlow like so much weight got in the way, my shape’s the shape of something missed, flash-pop or empty frame. Though you could say I’ve made a game of this, and though midtrickery it might be true, when evening lingers in the key of leaving my senses swoon. A synonym for stay, I’m always coming back. I chew through traps. I love whatever doesn’t get too close.            Copyright © 2015 by Caki Wilkinson. Used with permission of the author. About This Poem   “One summer a few years back I was in the habit of walking my dog late at night, and I kept spotting a fox (or maybe foxes, but I always felt like it was the same one) stealing through people’s yards towards the ball fields by my house. That’s the image—too fast for a double take—I had in mind when I started this poem.” —Caki Wilkinson   Caki Wilkinson is the author of The Wynona Stone Poems (Persea Books, 2015). She teaches at Rhodes College and lives in Memphis, Tennessee. Most Recent Book by Wilkinson   The Wynona Stone Poems (Persea Books, 2015) "With Passing Wonder I Notice the Tracks of an Animal" by David Biespiel "From the Canal" by Michael Dickman "Freedom in Ohio" by Jennifer Chang Poem-a-Day   Launched during National Poetry Month in 2006, Poem-a-Day features new and previously unpublished poems by contemporary poets on weekdays and classic poems on weekends. Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit Poets.org.   You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click here.   © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038