PROMPT: For today's prompt, take the phrase "Maybe (blank);" replace the blank with a word or phrase; make the new phrase the title of your poem; and then, write the poem. Some example titles might be: "Maybe I should've read the instructions first," "Maybe I was wrong," "Maybe the world is flat," or whatever else y'all can muster.
MAYBE THE THREE RED FOXES DEAD ON THE ROAD
Maybe the three red foxes dead on the road are a sign.
Gretchen made us stop on the Chaco road in Argentina, August 2009,
to take a close look at the long legged fox the size of a wolf,
rare, with its eyes already eater out.
We stood and paid vigil.
Gary’s brother told me at the meeting for his mother’s funeral
that he stopped and turned around on US 131 south of Three Rivers
to see the dead fox by the side of the road.
That same March week I had seen the same orange fur, but had not stopped.
I can’t remember why he brought it up, but he made me wish
I had paid respects as well.
Going past the third fox, one mile from my house today,
I took in a sharp breath at beauty and wondered why, again,
this secretive creature, darted into the deadly path.
Is this a suicide pact, a woodland solidarity,
protesting to death so that my heart would un-numb to the handfuls
of raccoons, skunks, squirrels and deer, the crows and vultures who attend them littering my way as I plow through the country in my 95 horse power
Toyota pick-up,
Beast?
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