Gillian Prew: a poem



for the fox, dying

you came tumbled and burnished all at once

bursting bursting inside

with fox-joy with lullaby


spring and soil-smell warm cub-milk

all blood sisters blooming redder


saying goodbye and trotting out

a small fire in a shrinking landscape


tight your heart, tight your coils of guts


wings, roots

all up and down all earth and sky

and widening right into the world


they came for you

you the only wound they wanted


a hundred eyes on horseback

a mob with dogs their poor dogs

born into it their poor dogs dying

just the same


whisk I wish

I could whisk you home

safe in your day-den and the soft moss

and all the reasons you are beautiful


my hands are raw with wringing ringing!

a death knell


the night climbs – light a wreck of itself


you wane there dear fox

your heart falling out your throat plucked



Born in Stirling, Scotland in 1966, Gillian Prew studied Philosophy at the University of Glasgow from 1984 to 1988. Her chapbook, Disconnections, can be purchased from erbacce-press (2011) and another chapbook, In the Broken Things, was published by Virgogray Press (2011). Her collection, Throats Full of Graves, was published in 2013 by Lapwing Publications. A further collection, A Wound’s Sound, was released from Oneiros Books in April 2014 and her chapbook, Three Colours Grief, was published by erbacce-press in June 2016. Her latest project (a collaboration with the poet and artist, Karen Little) is a small booklet contributing to a series raising funds for an animal shelter. She has been twice short-listed for the erbacce-prize and twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize.