Fox Skull

At the back of my garden, a fox’s skull sits

Squid ring sockets, an elongated snout

That was still searching in the dark

Brushing leaves aside, feeling wetness

And through the cobwebs I picked it up

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The bone’s curvature; the sensation of a lover’s lips

I dug this skull up with my father, back when he was healthy

And I sat plucking worms from the earth.

I placed it on a shelf in the shed

Among tilly lamps, rat killer and darkness

I understood my own skull will release teeth one day

Only a limpet-like few will remain

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I returned when the streetlights bled

Through the windows, glossing

The bones and salivating on shelf

I stared at the skull until it was unreasonable

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Beyond the blackness, beyond the window

Trees hold their breath, the eye of the moon

And a wet nose touches a leaf,

Slowly two lamps and two hoods,

Some sleuth skims across the lawn,

Within this underworld, beyond the day

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I clasp my own skull, feeling my jaw

Imagining future hands

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Liquor-Drenched Eyes

Coffee Cup

There was war that stood here