Sunday, December 31, 2006

Rabbit.

Whoosh! and you're off.

A challenge between strangers,
with no word spoken.

You are not yet your mother,
your father in their practical shoes.
You wear your thin jacket
wide open
and it taunts like a red flag.

I am precariously balanced
on the slick track, freezing,
wheezing and careening behind
you.

I see my mother in the fat
of my chin, my father
in the moles that pepper
my skin.

I discover a new one each year.

So I dare to wear my jacket
wide open
and race you through the streets
of Berlin.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

After Wes

I saw the angels dance last night,
calves all taut with gold.
They struggled, bound by weightless fruit;
the seeds consumed untold.
The footprints of their wishes
left marks upon the soil.
Tomorrow, I will water there.

Anonymous said...

R-Rabbits.