Poetry |

“Garden Augur”

Garden Augur

 

 

Fox in the yard this day of atonement.

            Red-coated dancer.

                                    Pounce.

 

Splayed out      belly up

            split neck to tail           rat.

 

As if the fox     while I was fasting

            had run a blade

                        slit its prey

                                    gobbled the guts &

 

left a skeletal coat        for me.

            Born in the year of the rat.

                        Possibly optimistic.

                                    May possess a demonic element.

 

Still pink

            the cone flowers.

                        The milkweed

                                    profuse green pods.

 

Rat dismembered among the mischief.   Fox gone.

 

I auger the soil to divine the meaning.

 

            I am fox.          I am rat.

Contributor
Cynthia Bargar

Cynthia Bargar is the author of Sleeping in the Dead Girl’s Room, a 2023 Massachusetts Book Award Honors Poetry Book. Her poems have appeared/are forthcoming in Sugar House Review, Lily Poetry Review, Verse Daily, The Last Milkweed Anthology (Tupelo), and elsewhere. Cynthia is associate poetry editor at Pangyrus.  She lives in Provincetown, MA.

Posted in Poetry

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.