Devolution
©March 30th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
An eventide sun.
A fox, full of fire and fight
Leaps across the sky.
Waning gibbous moon.
Magical grave in mole-hole.
Death waits, alone, cold.
Cheese-bait for young fox.
When the trap traps the trapper,
Bloody feathers fly.
What is love, you ask?
Blood pours out, and feathers float.
The first kiss of death.
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*Inspired tangentially by Rita Kalnejais’ play, “First Love is the Revolution.”