Fox In A Cage At The Zoo
A broken down train is reclaiming the same tunnel on a circular track. Now confronted
with this living red miracle, I was intent upon making contact. Yet the red fox would
have none of it. All the tantrums of my small plump legs, couldn't get that fox to stop
and look. Mission had turned to obsession, down the long highway of hysteria. Her
eyes shone like rich liquor, unfocused and timeless, captured like an insect in amber.
Her fiery tail like a stubbed cigarette. There was no reaching into her, fingers on the
wire, my chubby knees pinned to the dirt, the soft skin stapled by twigs and stones. I
knew that something was wrong, yet I trusted the world. "Foxes are beautiful, " I said.
I suddenly felt her full of pain and worry. Nan thought the bears had frightened me,
those zoochotic polar bears that swayed deep inside the concrete pits. Once my
brother dropped his plastic bottle, and crawled through a barricade in his nappies to
get it. The polar bears eyes were already on the toddler that teetered on the edge. For
a moment I felt the silence of nightmares that emit strained and desperate cries. This
was the world of the captive bears a long way from the icefloes and Churchill. The
animals were teaching me lessons. It was like a shadow crept into my heart to settle
there. "This is the world," it said, "welcome little girl who learns from everything." |
