adrian fox

SYNDROME  ‎

For Howard Wright

I’m reaching in and out beyond

this locked-in-syndrome.  Beyond

the hum drum lunch box of tablets

and this overcast sky.  Beyond my

books “Splint” and “A kill house.” 

I’m here at the river, the source.

I’m just past the point of the blue-

stone road where u have to turn

and turn again. 

Hi Stephanie soiled, dead, this poem

means as much to you as the gold lettering

flaking away from the black marble head-

stone.  You’ll always be in my poems,

like the fox skulking through the weeds

of your plot "I am just your steppin-

stone.  Just your stepping stone".