FOX

From the shawl the leaves were drifting
Sifting on the trottoir.
From that mist the fox fur shifting
Slid through creaking fermoir.

I’ll pursue her through the shadow
In the dusk like ClaudeVigée.
Fearless still, I forged a path though
Cluing hints of négligée.

Eyelight through the slender eyelid
Melts to teardrop that was bright.
So does love, when voice is quivered
Dripping into thunder night.

So the fox fur falls and wavers
After my persistent kiss.
Moan of bliss dissolves, it fractures
O how coarse this echo is!

And how rudely, turning from her
I snap shut the fermoir.
There the fox lies bare, dishonoured
Here dead leaves and trottoir.