Peter Chapman Poetry

The Eagle and the Fox

Our national symbol, his back turned, crouched eating when the quick sly fox dug under
the cage and, without announcing himself or declaring "I'm about to eat you, eagle", fell
on the bird with the sickening loss of wild inflation.

Signs indicated the eagle fought little, succumbing to the shock of the bold attack, its life
drained off undramatically

and the fox, as if to show it could own the great bird, bit it here and there then left, in the
ruffled, fright-riffled silken night, a few bright hairs on the bars.

After an incident at the National Zoo.