The Silver Fox
November 13, 2011, by Homme de Sept-Îles
chabot fell
a grasped birch ball
chucked leather
a stomach bent
there he lay
prone
garden ice
going yellow
matted steam
rising
combed shimmer
the sizzle of french fries
through emptied corridors
labyrinthine medical green
maze halls
a gurney for one
so the net
empty
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