IFox

I remember or imagine 
I’m not sure which 
because the agony of 
its missing is similar 
this anguish often bleeds
like watercolors one into 
the next this longing 
for and also if
if we had and
also if we will 
it’s delicate this dance 
between past and future 
but does very little 
to release the gripping 
grief of this present 
I am thus caught 
like a fox between
the hounds and hunters