Fox Amongst Children
Our flat overlooks the school
and offers a view of its playground
and the derelict plot next door,
overgrown now with long grass,
cow parsley, dandelion, a fly-tipped
sofa. We sometimes spot a fox
lazing in the shade, unfazed by
the children playing on the other
side of the fence. On polling day
the school stands empty, its yard silent
but for clucks from two hens in a hutch.
Past the shoe rack waiting with tiny
wellingtons to the hall where three
ladies smile and say the morning’s
been steady, not too busy; manageable.
Next day the children are back
in their playground laughing,
and we spot the fox in the sunshine
at ease, patiently washing its paws
with pulses of pink tongue.
James Bruce May read Creative Writing at Greenwich University and Goldsmiths College in London, where he currently lives with his girlfriend and his guitar. His work appears in journals including HARK Magazine, The Treacle Well, Word Bohemia, The Stockholm Review of Literature, The Fat City Review, The Puffin Review, Twisted Vine Literary Arts Journal, and Gravel Magazine.