Wild in the Garden
I found a muddled area in my unplanted garden.
My eyes drawn then to the forelegs, still connected,
to each other, of a small rabbit. Clearly, little meat
on the fur covered bones. Little rabbit caught,
no doubt, in the jaws of an athletic cat, claimed,
carried over the rabbit fence, into the garden, eaten.
All other bones, sinew, fur, disappeared, some entrails
scattered to the right near my transplanted tomatoes.
Little rabbit not there this morning. Not there now–
I buried legs, togather, between the first two
tomatoe plants, the entrails between the second
and third plants. Animal through animal; fur to dust.
8 thoughts on "Wild in the Garden"
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Ooh that ending was so powerful and unexpected but I love it: “Animal through animal; fur to dust.”
Effective mix of the remains of violence and your tenderness. Those last four lines really got me.
Thanks for returning it back to earth! Love the poem’s softness among reality.
The unexpected ending is a stunner. Lovely writing.
I like the title
Thanks all!
I love the invocations of the rabbit: “Little rabbit caught”;
“Little rabbit not there this morning. Not there now–”.
This is a haunting piece.
I sure wish baby bunnies could outsmart the damn cats that snatch them! I like seeing a prose poem!