KATE FOLEY

Fox on the Stairs

Feral as the sun's chestnut stain,
slipping like ruby glass,
fox leaves her spoor on every tread,
gilt spraints down each riser.

She wants me to follow,
though I can't catch her,
past the blazing pale of the banisters,
onto the landing's gilded and distressed field.

Wild as best blue milk, fox milk,
sharp as dextrose spiking my blood,
she wants me crazy, bright teeth fastened
in my heart with a wilderness clasp.

No emblem, she trots, tongue lolling,
up the vertebral column of the house,
past each blue eyelid shuttered room,
bright as a needle through folded shadow.

Her musk paints the air impasto
and I will never bleach it clean
or feel the house like a newly
bathed domestic animal, settle.
 

Anamaria Comes

Kate Foley
 

Vulpea pe scari
 

Neimblanzita ca a soarelui rosiatica pata,
lunecand ca o oglindire rubinie,
vulpea isi lasa urma
pe fiecare treapta, ramasite aurii.

Vrea s-o urmez,
dar n-o pot prinde,
pe langa balustrade de-un galben incins,
pe palierul in aur, invechit.

Stranie precum cel mai albastru lapte de vulpe,
taioasa ca sangele-nfierbantat de dextroza,
imi ia mintile,
dinti albi aprig inclestati in inima.

Nenumita, grabind cu limba atarnand,
sus pe-a casei spinare,
pe langa fiece camera umbrita de pleoape-albastre,
straluceste ca acul in umbra prelinsa.

Izul ei de mosc picteaza aerul cu tuse groase
n-o sa scap nicicand de el
si niciodata n-o sa simt
ca un animal imbaiat traieste-n casa.