Poem 165
Looking for a picnic spot instead I get a reminder of the gravity of mortality, the lifelong pull to the ground on all of us … though (however often the reminder) still as inexplicable as it is inevitable …
( vivid images, you can almost smell this bunny, good half-rhyme with rabbit and gadget, and alliteration/assonance on gears greased – I like nozzling because of the simultaneous sense it gives of both ‘sucking’ and ‘nuzzling’ down, and I love how the last lines sum up the transformation … )
Dreaming Grass
The rabbit is a gadget of bones swimming into the ground grass grown through the drum-flattened skin dropped down here from a hawk or disease crusting his blood old age starving him to earth not meaning to part his grave we recoil from his lack of eyes the revealed intricacies a wind pulls sun-crisp fur he waits for rain to melt him a little more dreaming grass is grass ground nozzling him down ground he kicked away from these dry gears greased and shining