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Rabbit Cage

It ain’t the burning bush of a backyard brush fire
That tells me, nor the powder char and tarnish
On one’s war steel, the green scurrilous taint
On memorial bronze and brass, nor my ex-wife’s
Demanding, demeaning looks at our past –
Odiferous as eels left to rot in their pots.

It’s rather the slow realization that the gods
We thought were in our corner from the first
Are not only no longer real, but never really partook
Of the reality of situations, not even
For one inexcusable piss-ant of a star
Twinkling in night’s more puissant quadrants,

And not for the bending of one grass-blade beneath
Naked teenagers, holding each to each long ago,
Nor the ad hoc burial of our daughter’s frozen bunny,
When after an eerily early September snow storm
And inadequate prayers to gods of memory,
I forgot to cover the rabbit cage the night before.

Comments

  1. Matthew Lickona says

    One of my favorites.

  2. Rufus McCain says

    I hear the echo of a Springsteen song in the first stanza. Something off Tunnel of Love. Entirely unrelated, and this is much better, or at least has several more layers than what the Boss conjures.

    Not that Springsteen is bad. I love Springsteen. Quin compared him, dismissively, to Billy Joel, and I disagreed with Quin on that point.

    Now I can't get that song out of my head, though. "It wasn't the bitterness of a dream that didn't come true…"

  3. Rufus,

    I smile a small wry smile….

    It must have something to do with both of us being from Freehold, NJ.

    JOB

  4. Jonathan Webb says

    Great. I know I always say that, but great stuff. Thanks.

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