Winter Morning

 While walking across a stubbled field
My breath steaming low
in the frigid air,
I watched some crows rise and fall;
A black wave against the winter blue.
I found a trap, its jaws clamped tight
around a red fox foot.
Drops of blood
froze on the crusted snow
and trailed into the waiting woods.
There was no fox, just its foot—
gnawed through to get back home.
For your love,
I’d chew my hand off at the wrist
And suck the marrow from the bones.