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Once I skulked snoutwise through scrap-iron forests,

And to each man with his silver pail scowled:

You are not beautiful enough

to make me human

I had a fox’s education:

rich coffee grounds in every house gutter,

mice whose bones were sweet to suck,

stolen bread and rainwater on whiskers:

slow theogonies of bottle caps and house cats

I crouched, the color of rusted stairs,

and to each boy who chased me

through rotted wheat laughed:

You are not beautiful enough

to turn my tail to feet!

But this is a story,