“What Fox Says”

 

Fox says: apprivoiser won’t be possessed

but a slow-weave of absence into thread

you tilt among the stars

and i trace the outline of your missing shape

knowing the outline itself still abides

 

there the sketch suspends

hollowed lines tremble while

i cradle the paper as though

the blank within it were the closest

i could come to you

 

tu me manques

not grammar but ache

a twinge where language falters

the rose bends her head not in shame

but in the act of being present unseen

 

the desert reaches silence

but silence is not enough

i hear your laughter in the echo of wells

and the sand mirrors presence

half‑remembered half‑true

like a constellation refusing to fade

 

the prince says: les étoiles sont belles

parce qu’elles contiennent 

une fleur qu’on ne voit pas 

so, i walk beneath them

knowing each glimmer

is a reminder you are gone

yet impossibly near - a rose

hidden in the sky’s vast pocket

 

tu me manques refuses closure

a grammar of ache and wonder

it is the fox’s farewell

the rose’s quiet endurance

the child’s sketch of a sheep

that will never quite arrive -

the outline traced at the start

abides luminous, unbroken

 

 

 

 

 

.