Friday, July 20, 2012


Foxy Hustler

“the young fellow
coming towards me”
—Ted Hughes, “Epiphany,”
Birthday Letters

Crossing Chalk Farm Bridge—
On my way to the subway station

I glance at him & couldn’t—
Help but stop and stare

He was a foxy chicken hustler—
His pinched, urchin expression

I caught his eye—
His wild confused stare

“Like have you got $100?—
I’m cheap enough, dude”

Somebody would buy him—
What would I do with him?

All that mannerless energy—
Growing up bored with himself

Powerful, slinky young fox—
Long mouthed, shifty, moody

A young hunger for everything—
Full of cocky male derangement

The foxy kid peered at me—
Some good luck is all he needed

Already past the chicken stage—
Round, orphan-looking eyes

I take him back to Devon—
Circling and sniffing him in bed

He wants to get back to London—
So I have to hurry doing him

I pay him and drive him back—
I’d wanted to test my widowhood

Can an older divorced woman—
Still find an armful of love?

My marriage to Ted dead—
A young fox now & then maybe

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