FORM OF A FOX HEAD

His scalpel tongue has licked the lapis-jade
staining it with blue rust.
       The aged copper blood dripped down his chin
to form a dragon’s beard.

This fox robs instead of hunts.
His actions are no longer forgivable.
            No longer a product of nature.

This fox devoured sin by choice.

He smiles with his affectionate and pernicious eyes.                     I become
an animal
    trapped within my innocence.
     My metallic amber skin tarnished with vicious pain.

Smile fox.
Smile for all the smiles you have stolen.
                      Bring one last gift to the forsaken. Help me dream
          in amaranthine.

Lick the tears which fall from my chest – try not to let them drool between your marbled teeth.
Don’t waste.
Kiss others with my spit.
   Bite others with my teeth.

Kate Schnetzer holds a B.A. in Theatre & Drama from Indiana University. In her spare time, she makes rugs, writes bad—but not boring—plays, and kills basil plants. Her writing is published or forthcoming in Sweet Tree Review and The Meadowlark Review. She is originally from Orlando, FL.