desperation
he came wounded to our table
and we didn’t know how to help
Roxy, the kind little red fox
we were so glad to see
you still walked this earth
we were so sad to see
the work someone made
of your elegant face
red puncture in one cheek
crown bare
all we could think to do
was say sweet words to you
and look you in the eyes
with concern and care
but when you circled and panted
hungry for our soup
I think we did the worst
abandoning you to the wide world
while we took our lunch inside
triggers
the triggering subject:
the proximal cause
setting your pencil moving
putting words in your mouth
and a bee in your bonnet
the generated subject:
the image that emerges from the ache
the harm that won’t be undone
the pain that makes it all personal
the meaning to your being here now
with something to say
and a need to be heard
let me be brave enough
to line up all these daily triggers
sharp and dangerous as daggers
all the goings-on that pierce my consciousness
and follow each one a step further
uncovering the wound each tears wider
until my fingers can probe it
pack it with a poultice of runes
then hold my warm hand over it
til it heals well
