22. symbolism / haiku sentence

What is the symbolism behind a dream of two rust red foxes curled around each other (a burnt red, a figure eight)— their black muzzles elongated, pulled forward a few inches more than normal, slimmer than in the natural world, tails fluffed up as in winter, all static and slow knotted together?
With the spreading global virus, the rising death tolls daily— sometimes I feel as if panic swells roughly in my lungs. Or even the opposite extreme, I feel I do not panic enough. Despite the school closings. The repeated announcements for greater seclusion, larger social distances. Monday classes resume remotely. Video conferences with students closed up in their homes. The camera records me as a drunken, winter, river-god: Whitman beard all spiked and wirey. Twice I trimmed back my whiskers brutally, almost down to bottom layers of skin along the jawline—
Brendan on the other hand relishes the time off. Aside from the rare hour studying review sheets forwarded from his teachers, he takes in his independence, hording moments with model kits and electronic gear. Whereas I try to gain time for more reading, writing— he burns morning and afternoons on his backyard trampoline. Talking to friends by text or video. He exists as the modern child: all action, firecracker.
         (5)           the coil of your fist
         (5)           opens in the dark
         (2)          [softly / slowly;]; outside
         (5)           The last jasmine falls
         (2)           outside
Outside. The last jasmine falls. The coil of your fist opens (beside me) (in the dark).

867. Outside. The last jasmine falls. The coil of your fist opens— in the dark.

playing with the haiku form— @HaikuSentence


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