Monthly Archives: October 2006

The Rabbit

Episodes
foist themselves
upon the memory
and like vignettes
lie in blank time
an album
of experience.
A moment
may not be important
but lies there
touching your being.
The pages turn,
and I never did learn
to dislocate
the rabbit’s neck.
The trees
behind the hutches
do not exist
in this vignette,
but standing
behind the hutches
I am
killing a rabbit.
The dull knives
that I used
taught me
in my ignorance
to cut behind the ears
rather than saw
the loose flesh
of the neck.
I clubbed the rabbit
on the head
and strung him up
and sawed at his neck;
and slowed at the bone,
the rabbit came to
and squealed
a shrill eeeeeeeeeeee . . . .
And the butcher that I was
I beat his head
with the blade
of the bone handled
carving knife.
The blade broke
on his head.
He stopped squealing.
I cut the loose flesh;
his head off, he convulsed
blood.
Once when mom and I
killed rabbits,
we cut one’s heart out,
set it down,
and it still beat.
I show my foster mother
the broken knife.
The rabbit’s skull
broke her knife.
Strange, my mother and I
had one the same,
part of a set.
Mom in Tallahassee,
with electrodes
to her head,
not my EEG,
I in Pinellas Park.
I am all I know;
and the question asks
the problem,
and I can not answer.

Christopher Franke

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RHYME TIME JIVE

The man flings pigeon wings
feather splayed arrayed
in public square

He’s not afraid
to drink the coolaid
when his toads are warm

but his other wish
is continuity of consciousness
to testify
a you, a them to witness
the dream

Kathy Ireland Smith