“What Fox Says”
Fox says: apprivoiser won’t be possessed
but a slow-weave of absence into thread
you tilt among the stars
and i trace the outline of your missing shape
knowing the outline itself still abides
there the sketch suspends
hollowed lines tremble while
i cradle the paper as though
the blank within it were the closest
i could come to you
tu me manques
not grammar but ache
a twinge where language falters
the rose bends her head not in shame
but in the act of being present unseen
the desert reaches silence
but silence is not enough
i hear your laughter in the echo of wells
and the sand mirrors presence
half‑remembered half‑true
like a constellation refusing to fade
the prince says: les étoiles sont belles
parce qu’elles contiennent
une fleur qu’on ne voit pas
so, i walk beneath them
knowing each glimmer
is a reminder you are gone
yet impossibly near - a rose
hidden in the sky’s vast pocket
tu me manques refuses closure
a grammar of ache and wonder
it is the fox’s farewell
the rose’s quiet endurance
the child’s sketch of a sheep
that will never quite arrive -
the outline traced at the start
abides luminous, unbroken
.