|Once it was in raw
November...or October? Cant
I was worn and badly wasted from a long
day at the store
and I dozed off, no doubt drooling (Im
not kidding, Im not fooling:
work that day was really grueling--puling
patrons, I footsore),
while my love and her big brother called
on friends theyd seen before.
Twas just a
Next day my love told me,
Honey, I am gonna get a bunny.
My brothers friends raise troops of
rabbits, troops enough to make a corps!
I stared at her, my visions habit,
then declared, Therell be no
At that she struck my rib--she jabbed it--elbowed
it till it was sore.
Its cute! Theyll give
it free, she cried. You know
that bunnies I adore.
Thus my plea she did
I bound the rib and,
vocally heated, gazed at love and still
reminding her that rabbits breed, they
spawn like grunion on the shore.
If with pet you must cohabit,
whys it have to be a rabbit?
Why not sea-life? Hermit crabs fit...Tuna!
Youll get albacore!
Her look spoke volumes, drilling through
me, but from curses she forbore.
Ill have one
bunny. Say no more.
Hence in a December
snowy, when the wind was cold and blowy,
my love and I betook ourselves, to sate
her antic leporine chore,
to brothers friends named John and
Tony, pleasant guys and never phony,
whilst I continued to be groany right up
to their houses door.
Up the icy path we went to house with
windows rimed with hoar.
My love was smiling
Then inside we were
admitted, where John and Tonys two
Trev and Raleigh welcomed us with canine
capers at the fore.
How they frolicked, Trev and Raleigh,
greeting party ever jolly,
eager to begin the folly that brought my
love back to their door.
They leaped about, devotion dogged,
licking hands for their encore.
hosts snapped. Calm restore!
John and Tony soon
besought us, and our custom long had
to take refreshment, eat and drink--and
neither grub nor glass forswore.
A tray of snacks they then extended and,
lest they should be offended,
to our dinner we appended nosh and
Have some coffee? they
inquired. Some tea, perhaps?--Here,
have a Smore!
My love craved harey
So belowground we
were taken, to the cellar not forsaken
by our hosts who here bred rabbits--here,
I say, not Baltimore.
My love rushed forward, ever eager (penned-up
creatures do intrigue her)
to rabbit cage with space so meager over
which her heart did pour,
and snatched the fair and radiant rabbit
whose legs jerked like a semaphore.
We named her Twitchley,
Well, by gum! by
gosh! dagnabbit! My love finally got her
and with it home we hied to give it
warmth from weathers biting frore.
There encaged the bunny huddled; my
loves soul was liquid puddled,
for with quaking, nervous bunny shed
have cuddled on the floor.
Im your mother, baby,
she said. Come to me! she did
be for two days more.
Soon accustomed and
ensconced in her own room--here, not
Twitchley romped and rocketed around the
place--how she did soar!
Shed hide at length behind some
clutter; love and I would often mutter
that shed speed as slick as butter
to hideyhole behind the door
where we discovered heaps of fibers from
the carpet that she tore.
She gnawed the carpet,
She was calm--the
Bunlai Lama--distant from the human drama,
and when we moved her to the kitchen she
made not a single roar.
Apples, pears and hay she munched, or
tasty carrot neatly crunched--
within her cage intently hunched (the
cage was made in Singapore)--
ate her peanuts, cherries, popcorn,
lettuce that she gently tore--
ate just enough but
Next she spied her
stuffed pink piglet, shook her scut--oh
Lord, did wiggle it!--
leaped from cage and circled toy quite
like a fearless picador.
Then she mounted, vibrant, humping--clutching,
avid, swiftly pumping;
little rabbit feet a-thumping, rump a-bump
gainst kitchen floor--
chieftainess atop her subject, dominant,
as dainty as a
life? A bowl of cherries or, I should say,
with them daily she got richer, pile by
pile beside the door.
Satisfied from all her humping, Twitch
withdrew and squatted, dumping.
Once again I started grumping to my love
about the chore
of picking up fresh rabbit poop that
unimproved the rooms decor.
She sighed, grabbed
broom and swept the floor.
Oy, gevult! They
kept on coming, pouring from that
like cluster bombs, a mass so vast--enough
to sink Corregidor!
While I trod there, nearly snapping,
again I heard the faintest tapping
as of rabbit slyly crapping pellets on
the kitchen floor.
My love, said I, my
darling...honey--get a vacuum, I implore.
From cork suggesting I
Thrice while love
and I were talking on the phone, our
Twitch went stalking,
saw the line connecting handset to the
base and then made war:
chewed the wire--with teeth she crumped
it--hopped away, the little strumpet.
Sudden silence made me trumpet, You
there? Cant hear you anymore!
Thus my love picked up extension, our
discussion to restore.
Quoth the rabbit,
Yes, I know I seem
curmudgeon, that my storys full of
but watching my love hugging Twitch
became contentments metaphor.
Their snuggle sessions were terrific--love
with smile so beatific,
the kitchen chamber so pacific as rabbit
she caressed and more:
crooned Twitch nicknames, sang weird
songs--my comic love, the troubadour.
My love and Twitchley
So, you see, for
all my drab wit, I too came to love that
Like my love she is the sweetest daughter
mother ever bore.
Whenever worries had me sweating, Id
engage in bunny-petting
and sure enough my awful fretting sailed
the creek without an oar.
I had my love and Twitch to steer me from
disquiets roiling shore.
published in Maelstrom, Vol. II,
Issue 1, 1998