The Hawk's Rabbit

It is raining tufts

of rabbit fur

and memories

in my backyard.

Atop the utility pole

bunny feet wave “bye bye”

as a Harris Hawk tears her apart.

It rained bunny fur in Dad’s hutch, too

as I scooped out turds and tufts

where mamas sometimes mashed

their babies through the mesh floor.

The bunnies screamed

when Dad punched an ID into their ears.

They screamed when he grabbed them

by the back legs

and karate chopped

them behind the ears

until blood ran out

their upside down

little pink noses.

Mary Jane was mine.

She was never supposed to land

on our dinner table.

But she did, and I screamed

and was sent to bed hungry.

Now the hawk screams.

He has finished his meal

and takes flight

as if nothing happened.

Sybilla

3/30/17