11/9

approaching rabbits 

not enough fuel to get home. not 
enough songs to fill stomachs. not enough
teeth to chew down the tree.
the bridge will collapse soon
so each passing is a gamble & the river
has gone too long without cradling someone home.
all of us in the woods now
like bare mouth children.
once, we were rabbits & 
at the slightest movement
we scattered like wedding rice.
found crevasses to wriggle into.
sprouted brief wings & discovered perches.
the birds judged us for our dirt-bound fears.
we should have given up soil
so long ago. i always come back
to sites of my own almost-annihilation.
a stump. a plastic slide. swing
slung over the bar. 
eat the onion grass even though it's bitter.
have you ever run for survival?
or lust? or danger?
no shoelaces, just grass up to your neck?
all us rabbits disappearing 
from each other's sight. street 
tying itself into a knot. you aren't 
going anywhere, at least not tonight.
what are you willing to wait out?
i have loved boys who fed me sand
& said it was sugar-- who fed me rabbit
& promised it wasn't my own leg. you are
the only rabbit in the universe.
soft & consumable. skin prying off
to reveal a moth. skin peeling 
free & here is a little boy-girl
in the leaves. pressing acorns to 
his-her eyes. make me a tree soon.
i want to hear a car horn 
or a chain saw or a man's voice singing.
& have no way to run. 

 

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