They block the burrow’s passage
sniffing outwards, treading
on some shifty lizard patting
mice bones in the Eden
of another life
while their elf-like tiny ears
prickle and shake off the sun:
two newly born fox pups.
Oblivious to buzzard
or polecat,
happy in any lap
they’d drink of any milk.
But in the village,
on some filthy, worm-eaten
stable door
blood dries on red fur
and gunpowder
stains the maternal head.
Tr. Ana Hudson; original published 2008. The animal/human story alluded to here makes only the occasional appearance in animal poetry.
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