Rabbit hole redux

    As a child I’d go
    beneath the cherry tree to
    cry and wipe my nose in the leaves,
    feeling like a dew drop
    in the pooled summer night.

    One time I saw a fox
    in my place.

    I’d stand still a meter off
    in the shrinking shadow of
    the tree,
    close to dawn.

    Crouched between the knotted roots,
    clenching the damp dark soil in each paw.

    Our yard poured into the empty street
    that wound its way around the
    rusted skeleton of an unused basketball hoop.

    All wiry

            Muscle  and


    I treaded lightly
    Through branches and wind.

    A small rabbit dangled limply in
    his jaw.

    My cheeks got chapped and dry.
    I’d stare long and quiet at the night,

    No more than a handful of
    bloodied bits, in reds, grays and white.

    Till Momma would crack the porch door


                      whisper me

     back home.


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