Red fox

The red fox’s body is lying in the road. Wind blows its red fur, its fluffy tail, as vivid as if it were still alive. The sky, the wood, and meandering road are quiet as usual. May light is splendid as gold. It only took a second. The fox was killed, bloodied, and the pavement around its body was printed in red.

Such a pretty fire fox, alert and smart, bright as a flame in green woods. It only took a second—she died. No vehicle stopped.  She was a creature, alive. She had a family. Cubs are waiting for her return.

* * *

“Red fox” is the second of three new poems by Yi Ping written on the occasion of Ithaca City of Asylum’s fifteenth anniversary.

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