deepundergroundpoetry.com

Ted Hugh's Coat  

(August 2010)

I borrowed an old coat from Ted Hughes.
It smelt of fox, a cub, rescued long ago
all wrapped up in the dark back seat of his morris traveller
left a sweet pungent odor there.
Something of the earth, dirty and low.
Now mixed with oil, tabacco, petrol and the past.
It suited me that coat, the woody greens and browns,
of Scottish tweed.
That scent of fox of myself, dragged me back by the throat.
White snow in London, February in bright sunshine.
I watched a vixen stomp on the garden wall
We eyeballed each other, I a fox, who wanted to be a dog.
Is a dog, loyal and obedient and loving?
Does a dog never look for the chance to escape into the night?
Here she is again, in the headlights glare, a beautiful, fearless, curious fox.
Out in this moist autumn's darkest night, September.
Tiptoeing beside the flooded river, before she turns into the trees and fog.
How to return this coat? I couldn't wear another, it fits me so very well.
Phoebe
Written by Phoebe (Phoebe Amelia Jane Ryrko)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 4 reading list entries 1
comments 3 reads 692
graham_brodie
Commenting Preference: 
The author is looking for friendly feedback.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 9:20pm by crimsin
COMPETITIONS
Today 8:10pm by darkcloud68
COMPETITIONS
Today 7:47pm by DanielChristensen
COMPETITIONS
Today 6:42pm by crimsin
POETRY
Today 6:17am by Mrd