The Jack Rabbit

The Jack Rabbit

They whisper taboo
and my old sinews are taut,
too much for my bones
to hold with due ease.

I was once a jack rabbit
in a former life.

At least that seems true.
I remember bald eagles
aiming at my thews
and me jacking back
and away of a sudden
so they missed, cussing
me out as only
eagles can — me in
full on run to ground and down
with tattered gray fur
to my hole for one.

‎June ‎22, ‎2016 8:07 PM

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.