The Gravedigger

When I met the fox, he was a gravedigger

‘The years have aged me’ the fox would weep

Every tombstone was shiny


Covered in clingfilm


‘to stop the rain from tearing them to bits.’

In another life, the fox was a criminal


Mother loved bad men


‘I could have been a dancer’ the fox said


‘I had nimble feet’


On tippy-toes, the fox would dance in the moonlight.

There was one particularly special grave

The grave of a badger named Elaina


The fox would scream her name

Pretending it was a performance art piece

I asked him what she did


He replied, ‘she was a master of disguise’

That isn’t a job I quipped


‘and yet she was always working’

Love could not be laughed away


Still every night the fox had a heart for dinner

With a side of fries


‘hold the ketchup please’

I don’t visit the Gravedigger anymore

He calls me on his mobile device

And when he can’t hear me


He calls me Elaina, and I cry

by Fowsia