Day 97 of 100 Poems/100 Days

2049 Parasol Drive

In the backyard,
we raised grey rabbits,
underneath our balcony.

I would crawl under,
and watch them,
shifting in the cool dark,
huddled in the far corner.

And by giving them each names,
I could trap them with love.

With each mama taught me how
to take a life,
to cut a throat with sharp mercy,
and let it slowly flow out,
until the animal was lighter and lost.

Taught me how to forget their names,
and to start over,
to crawl back underneath,
and watch them staring from the corner.

I imagined myself as their monster –
But was I drawing marrow from same bone?
Split sternums to fill hunger,
as if each tiny limb
was my own?


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