Said to Her First Boy

some nights I slipped my pocket knife
under the latch of your screen door lifted
peeled back the stinking blanket
from your knuckle-fisted chest

the streetlight the moon rubbed patches
on your shoulders chin cheeks
abrasions of light
your breath sigh catch pause
an engine with a gear that slips

I could see the rabbit scuttle
just under your skin life-sized
outlined over your ribs your heart
now lower the torso shuddering

a snowshoe hare I could tell one so white
it disappears in winter is perhaps
a clump of ice and powder under a bush
perhaps the patch of whited sky
in the maple

I watched its frightened rapid beating
breathing until I did the only
humane thing I cut it free

it burst like a flock of frostbitten
flamingos all dangling legs and detritus
of feathers a storm of wings towering
white and pink

it thanked me I could see it
in your eyes opals white

tiny rabbits of light

This was written in response to the hare poem contest here.

I'm also thinking about one for Durer's Hare. You know, the famous etching.