Issue 16: Proximities

Skinning the Fox • Against Salvation

Poetry

Still dark out when my father pulls / the trigger.

SKINNING THE FOX

Still dark out when my father pulls
the trigger. The air rings like a bell
after the gunshot as if purified
by sound.

Only Enoch and Elijah
got to leave this world alive

he tells me, hours later, large
hands shaving skin from pink
meat—the fox, its body strung
between us, rope cinched
around a slender foot.

The body sways as he slices,
an inconsistent pendulum
marking time it will not see;
it wiggles—playful, almost
dancing with skin turned
down, the skirts of girls
on playgrounds after church.

He says, Please understand
I had to shoot it
. And I do.
The fox was wreaking havoc
in the hen house, the goat pen,
stealing chickens and killing kids.
My father tried to be humane.
Set traps, built better fences—
he tried. And each dawn
mocked his efforts
with the awful fuss of death.

I help him stretch the pelt
across the rack, ribbon guts
into a bucket, scrub stray blood
from the floor. He tried. I know,
I say. But did we have to skin it?
No
, he tells me. No,
That’s not the point.

AGAINST SALVATION

“I have wasted my life.” –James Wright

if beauty is a sin give me
beauty                     if gluttony
a fork and knife
let me drink the sweet water
of youth’s fountain while
young                     waste it
deliciously gulp every
brief drop                     no going
back                     no turning
unless it’s into a pillar
of salt                     if sloth
give me the luxury
of convenience and a woman
to decay with
of angels and their offices
I want no part                     except maybe
those who lusted
desired more or anything
other than an eternity of peace
golden palaces with pearl
-laid streets                     gold bores
me                     peace bores
I cannot eat a pearl
if I must confess and repent
to enter paradise                     I confess
I don’t want it                     I repent
of nothing                     but the time
spent fearing holy wrath                     gold
pearls, saints, paradise sounds
like it would bore me
if Heaven is a paradise
I will face god and dance
backwards into Hell
which can’t be that much
worse than Alabama
if eternal life is what I lose
for loving her                     give me
her                     and the quick burn
of mortality                     and
if mortality is a curse
o god I beg of you
curse me                     curse me
curse me                     forever and ever   amen

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Edited by Emilie Menzel and Jerica Taylor.
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