At the grocery store I hear the song we listened to in high school

when we played strip poker in my parents’ car.

I never lost.

Your bravado, your skinny thighs,

your sharp teeth glistening

on the cloven fruit

you passed to me at parties.

But if you’re a newfangled, new-fanged fox –

you’re my kind, scientifically speaking. At family dinners

we will bond over our affinity for killing

what we catch.

Abigail Welhouse