From Nerve Cowboy #19, Spring 2005

 

AWFUL BEAUTY

 
It was noon
on a bright, cold winter day
and I was walking through
a suburban neighborhood
when I saw
in the middle of someone's yard
 
a fox eating a pheasant.
 
Foxes are nocturnal.
Foxes run away when they spot a human.
Foxes don't belong on suburban lawns
tearing at the carcasses of their prey.
 
I stood at the wooden fence
that defined the borders of the yard
watching
for a good five minutes.
From time to time
the fox looked warily at me
through squinting eyes.
 
I thought of the incongruities of the situation,
about the tensions that are inherent in art
or in any series of moments that are interesting.
 
A beige fox
tearing at rainbow plumage;
the red gash of a torn-out throat
screaming
in a well-ordered suburban yard.
Hunger stronger than fear and safety,
the nocturnal creature attacks
as the sun smiles benignly
in a frozen noon.
 
It all happened on a busy back road.
Cars passed continually.
And not one slowed down
to bear witness.
 
 
Paul Agostino
Holbrook, NY