Music City Fox
Not far from the car-parts warehouse
near the highway underpass down the street
from United Record Pressing, the world’s largest
vinyl record plant a mile from Nashville honky-tonks
where colossal cowboy boots blink in neon,
walking by Boone’s Creek right by
Mrs. Grissom’s Salads where they package salsa
& pimento cheese. Who knows what shit flows
as it bubbles & foams? In this this city core,
where diesel fumes mix with smoke, I catch
a red fox’s yellow flare. As the streetlight flickers
on the fractured sidewalk next to the underpass,
I turn at the intersection of Cathey & Hanford
near tangled undergrowth. To protect her kits
as they romp around an abandoned shed
& devour picked-over drumsticks
from a KFC bucket, the vixen barks
when I get too close. In the wild, foxes
can live nine years–but even by
when there’s plenty to forage,
they rarely make it two
before they’re mowed down by traffic.
13 thoughts on "Music City Fox"
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Right there with it. I’m biased of course, been under that pass a thousand times. Nashville!!!
Love the title!!!!
Nah…. love love the title!!!!
And the poem sits perfect on the page.
I was taken by the grittiness of your images and descriptions. I feel the harshness of this place, and then the sweetness of kits romping.
Love the first stanza as it masterfully leads me down to the fox’s yellow flare. The whole poem sings the sad truth about the world’s wild things having to live among us.
this finely drawn urban landscape filled with hopelessness and sorrow, capped with a tenderly ironic title
A lot more economical now. Good work.
Ha! “Who knows what shit flows/as it bubbles & foams?”
I can see and smell this: “where diesel fumes mix with smoke, I catch/a red fox’s yellow flare/the streetlight flickers/on the fractured sidewalk next to the underpass”
Nice!
Strong tangibles finely woven with metaphor and powerful use of the senses create such a strong sense of place (whether anyone’s been there or not).
And then you plop the fox and her kits down in the center, on a “flare” as if ignited from the fumes and smoke.
Backing up to the speaker’s voice and analysis, and a hanging question that extends beyond the physical scenario.
Expertly done, Linda
takes us into a world, then into another world within that world
It’s rather sad when nature and the urban environment meet. And your lines end so easily on the tongue it makes every transition seamless.
As I read your title, I was hoping it referred to a “wild” fox, and you didn’t disappoint me. I’ve only seen one fox at the edge of a scant bit of woods at dawn, on my way to swim laps years ago. It was one of those sitings I’ve never forgotten.
Thank you for this poem.
Take me to Nashville. You did!
What a dystopian world we offer animals! I’m glad you noticed and memorialized that life.
That last line is like that polar plunge of hard truth. I love how you triangulate space here so the reader feels the size and scope of creature in place