The Rabbits’ Yard. A poem.

This yard is an Elysian Field. Where once they sneaked Like rogues into a lion’s den, Now they parade before the sun With no fear of molten wax. Well-worn trails, scented scorn, Marking passages with contempt. Reassurance and arrogance Threaten to subjugate The hallowed ground In which they stir. And yet: Indolent bodies gathered, RecliningContinue reading “The Rabbits’ Yard. A poem.”