Size / / /

To frogspawn
an egg is all.
(Together, a raft. A multiverse.)

A fox reads poetry
licks words till they stick to her tongue
(as anyone would).

The wasp makes her nest as soft as ash
a glue of whiskers adhere the layers
(without whiskers the fox cannot measure
her home
the twin bowls her paws make in the snow that is
nothing more than tears
polished smooth as blue mirrors
or silk with a spider's web motif
ice bones beneath).

You splay, frozen in the pond.
Your lashes catch snow
(and sometimes my reflection).

At the end of the thaw
your body, a crescent
your hair a bloom of fox tail.

Jenn Grunigen is a writer, folklorist, and metal drummer. She is a graduate of the 2016 Clarion Writers’ workshop; her writing has appeared in Shimmer, Spolia and elsewhere. Her SF novel, Skyglass, a wild tale of sex, elves and rock ‘n’ roll, is available now from Chromatic Press.
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