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(5.00 am, 20 August 2013)
Woken in pre-dawn gloom
When gut uncertaintiesHarry the dusk-dark room,
A fox shrieked like disease;
My dulled bones stirred and shrank awry
From that cold anthem of a cry.
Though August heats were over
This was my year’s first fox;Why had it broken cover
Screaming beside the docks?
Joy it had slaughtered for its fill
Or anger it had missed a kill?
Worse,
was its scream a warning –
That stink and yellow jaw! – Fraught in the silent morning
As the squealing of a door?
Was it for the past a reckoning,
And to some beyond a beckoning?
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© August 2013