burrow

i go out in my april suit
to talk to the rabbit statues. 
they stare holes
in the house. i say,
"tell me your burrow." i stayed up
all night waiting for the moon
to crack. it did not but i felt
a severing as thin as a hair
in the walls of the house. outside
there is a crack that enlargens
every time i check it. i run
my fingers along the zig-zags
& imagine the house splitting
into two perfect pieces. 
splayed open like a doll house.
the rabbits know what's going on.
they have a little compass
in the back of their throats.
they chew & chew. i beg to see
the burrow. the knot of truth.
i am not a rabbit though. i am just
a frantic salad. i cut off 
my hair again & the hair becomes
a rabbit, runs far away. 
there are more pieces i could
divide myself into. find a crack
along my sternum. here is where
the two being come to merge.
i have a face of dust & a face
of fire. one always caused the other.
the rabbits are all gone now
but i know they can see me.
if i call my mouth a burrow
will i be able to hear everything
i wish to know? the rabbits are
too smart for my tricks.
i perch outside with them.
feel their eyes like stolen planets
still burning holes in the windows
for ants to climb through.