a fox dies in a field

i could chew through the
paw that is caught in
the steel jaws of a
hunter’s trap

but the barbed wire fence
i tried to slink through
has already gored me

and if you’ll just give me
a few more minutes,
wait out on the porch with
your bouquet of daisies,
wilting in the summer heat,
i can get the blood off
these nice wooden floors

the scream that rips from my
throat is choked off by the
biting wire wrapped around
my bloodied muzzle

i’ll crawl on my belly to
your doorstep, knowing that
you’ve left the porch light on
just for me, spilling soft yellow
onto the mangled wreck 
of my small body

and we can drive down to
the coast this summer, for real
this time, i’ll even take off work,
and you can put your hand on
my knee like you used to

i don’t quite know when i
gave into that soft animal
beating of my heart, but
i’m trying to make my way
back to you

my claws scrabble against the
hard-packed dirt, and the barbed
wire only squeezes tighter,
unspools intestines that steam
in the cool night air
tongue lolling as much as it can,
breaths coming fast and painful,
i think of your hands on my face,
carding through my soft fur

and do you think they’ll pick the
daisies and forget me nots that
grow under where my thrashing body
stilled, watered by my red, red blood?

or will i still be poison to some,
like i was when there was still
breath in my lungs?