Rabbit – Poem

I understand that like the top-hatted man in the

8pm show you have to pull off the disappearing act—

I get that you think the show is about that

The puff of chalk that passes as smoke,

The pull of the wand that electrifies air,

And the gasps in reveling ticketholders.

You and I were given the same tricks

Trapped in paraphrased versions of life

Watching ourselves watching the stars.


Let me tell you—I’m on the other side

Of the upright coffin.  I’ve undone the performance

In pretending and chewing and opening the one thing

That you think is yours.  Alone.  I’m here

White, hungry, and inviting.


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