It was like a story I read.
A fox became trapped between two gravestones.
She struggled and corkscrewed
but her muscles swelled up. She was stuck.
Couldn’t budge. The air in her lungs became thin.
She shook like a frightened rabbit.
She was photographed, petted. Children
snatched at her coat. She bit them
away. She’d not be drawn out.
Then it got worse. It started to rain.
A man turned up in the rain like a spectre.
A man turned up in the rain to claim her.
A woman who claimed she was my grandmother
turned up in the rain, holding his hand.
They pawed at the fox.
Attempted to skin her.
She clamped shut her eyes.
Had no fight left in her.
Her therapist called this the emergency stage.
There was no way out.
There was no way out but through.
Emily Blewitt is the author of This Is Not A Rescue (Seren Books, 2017) and the poetry submissions editor for New Welsh Review. Twitter @SEmilyBlewitt