Rabbit

Rabbit offers his only wisdom:

Fuck fast, fuck often. Do it

in an open field, do it

in the haybarn and

run, run, run away.

____

Rabbit, I would, I did. Picked hay

from my creases and let seed

spill down my thigh. But, Rabbit,

it’s the running I could never do,

the leaving of the garden. You

in the field, all legs and long

of tooth, have never met the trap,

the farmer’s gun, the poison honey.

____

He could not say a thing. He knew

nothing of love, its sticky strands,

its dull tarnish. He ate my flowers

and ran. I finished the weeding.

Cried in the shower and dreamed

of his children: their gentle eyes,

rapid hearts. Changed my mind.

___________

This poem was published first in HAD, an online literary journal. If you're unfamiliar with their website, please click through and enjoy -- the editors have selected a large body of wacky, wonderful poems and prose for you to lose yourself in.