Two FoxesA Poem by Emma RuthTwo Foxes
I saw two foxes in the canal today, But they weren’t struggling Anymore. To their death they were surely wooed, Drowned in the murky waters of the man-made river below. Their vibrant red drained and their bushy tails subdued, Dead amongst the pieces of human waste; Washing machine, trolleys, wheelie bins… Are these two just another two?
Of course they deserve their watery grave, Their place amongst humanity’s rubbish, Do not mistake my words for sympathy - it is relief; How dare they intrude on our land and cause such grief, These sophisticated criminals of the night. Although I must admit, I cannot recall, The last time I heard the hunting horn call, Of foxes chasing their clucky victim to the point of exhaustion, Before letting the pups rip it apart, when for its life, hours it had fought them.
Fought…
(All for the good of the victim you understand, never for cruelty, fun or sport).
And now I come to think on it, nor do I remember The last time a badger declared a cull on humans, For intruding upon their land and spreading disease; Criminal you are Mr Badger; how do you plead? But you have no words or money to convince us That you were here long before us, And so with your silent defence we win, down you shall go, Execution for you and your kin.
And for you, our foxy fiend, For daring to try and survive alongside us, For refusing to be forced from your fields of green Even after we have marked them with our scent and gene, With our concrete slabs, your concrete gravestone scene, Is this what became of the Midnight Fox, Thought Fox, Fantastic MR Fox? Is this what Dhal expected, what Disney had in mind for his hero Hood? That despite all his good, He would end up here, as he should, Drowned and dead in the wake of the human flood? © 2012 Emma RuthReviews
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