fidgeting in the open air
covers off
lessons masked
with only the dream eyes showing
pleading eyes
of the dog
year of the pig
but I am a rabbit
from 1951
I believe it was my thirties
when he was given away
to handle myself
meant removing
all the signs
all the living things
his barks refuse the echo
I slump through
saying odie
even with the stink
leaving my lips
there is no sound
there is no urgency
telling myself
I am not a companion
who follows either
but when we make eyes
using the returned chemicals
there is a cage rattling off
hinges squeaking
we are adjoined in cages
and the teeth smile too
it all has to be unsaintly
here was a home
for livelihood
and the cloaks of a pacifist