Came Whiffling Through the Tulgey Wood

I lean towards
carnivorous shades
of red;

the vibrant,
rusting, oxidation of oval
cells;  spiraling down,
followed by

a long, uneventful wait.

I've practiced preservation
rehearsed my hunger,
refused to mate,

carefully count
the farmer's stolen hens
and rabbit nests

in bunches,

keep the orange fox

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