rabbit
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Father is finding groceries
Somewhere outside the front yard hedges. He left an hour ago In that car Rabbit must jump to get into. But Rabbit did not jump today. Today, Rabbit followed me, not Father, Under the belly of the shadow That keeps our living room. He mimics me as I press My cheek to the tile floor. I capture his pink hand in mine, And we stay sitting on our elbows, Watching Mother pedal Debussy. |
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Emilie Menzel is a poet, writer, and finder. Her publications include Black Warrior Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, and Tupelo Quarterly, and her manuscript The Girl Who Became a Rabbit was a recent finalist for Tupelo Press’ Berkshire Prize. Emilie is the curator of The Gretel, a contributing editor for The Seventh Wave, and a children’s librarian in-training. She lives in wooded North Carolina and online at emiliemenzel.com and @emilieideas.