The Rabbit God - v2

[ellajam]

Hi, Jeremy, I keep reading hoping to find something to say that might be of use to you, but I'm coming up pretty empty, good for you.

I love how it remains vivid and in the moment. Really well done, here are a few notes.

The Rabbit God
The sun sits high past the noontime,
the flat land, new mown, I keep thinking newly, but "new mown" is interesting
ambles away to the river.
And, in the last field before the railway lines
I lean against the stake of the barbed wire fence
and watch rabbits.

The year before the roadsides had been littered
with the blinded debris of mixi. My google landed on mixi being british slang for mixer, I pictured rabbits in a blender, the disease makes much more sense. You may want to consider using the full word.

He is two months younger than I; The undefined he stopped me at first, I'm used to it now.
taller, more willing to fight, great, deep description in these lines.
though maybe my equal in strength.
We have just had a wheelie competition,
in the dust of the abandoned road,
which runs arrow straight over the crossing.
Our brown-berry legs, I could see those skinny tanned legs with the lighter scratches and scabs, well done.
in short trousers,
carry the scars of play,
in these dying days of the summer holiday.

He tells me to wait outside,
I kick stones:
he re-appears with the gun.
I am nervous.
He tells me it is fine,
that his parents won't mind.
And, anyway, they are both at work.
The gun is nearly as tall as me.
And as he pulls the trigger,
it nearly knocks him backwards:
though he says it is only a 4/10,
and he's fired bigger. This stanza terrified me, I was relieved when it was the rabbit shot.

The rabbit looks shocked.
One moment it was chasing it's friend's tail
the next it is moving sideways,
then backwards
then looping into the air.
The field which moments earlier
had been dotted with grey dancing,
lies fallow and still
a sea of watching eyes. This stanza is a great frozen moment.

It is larger than I imagine.
'A female,' he tells me, laughing,
squeezing the guts,
gushing out a yellow stream.
I tell him to stop,
sensing desecration,
but he says you have to do it.
He breaks the gun, and casually carries it on the hip
holding the now cleaned doe
by the ears.

The last time I was in this garden, I love this example of innocence lost.
we used a catapult
to test the parachute of his Action Man.
And, I think of this
as he slits the rabbit from pelvis to neck.
The torn flesh and purple innards
force me to retreat to the corner of the house.
When I peer around the wall,
in response to his urging,
I see his fingers enter the cut,
hook the skin,
pull the hind legs back:
with a deft cracking of bones.
It comes off in one piece:
the skin from the meat,
like the sound of a wet sandcastle being turned out. And ends with a bang.

Thanks for posting this, it's one that sticks.