Holly Day Fox in the Snow

Fox in the Snow

Blood red in the snow, a tiny spray of drops an arc of unjust accusations frozen in time. This place is more oil than air, echoes rusted metal teeth snapping taut on a hand full of claw.

This spot, here, where her foot landed, where the trap is sprung. She is white against the snow, like soft spikes of thin mercury, liquid, tufts of white fur glowing bright against the brutal iron clasp her nose quivers black and tiny, sees me, knows who I am.

Holly Day

Holly Day teaches writing at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis. Her poetry has recently appeared in Asimov’s Science Fiction, Grain, and Harvard Review. Her newest poetry collections are Into the Cracks, Cross Referencing a Book of Summer, The Tooth is the Largest Organ in the Human Body, and Book of Beasts.