Issue 13

Autumn 2014


Woman at Window

They are baiting them again
I have found at least one
under the ghost gum
fizzing in the clench of spit
and mandibles

I cannot save them
in spite of my special powers
And now he’s gone they grow fat
as labradors on spinach gone to seed

Small ones are rutting
near the fence where lout dogs lurch
I am surprised
to see them so x-rated in daylight
where the fur police
could bag or jug them
or stuff their artless throats
with poisoned carrots

I hope they are not brother
and sister but have my suspicions
They look like twins with their amber eyes, fleck of fur
He would have known

He told me rabbits made love in the privacy
of their own homes but the hare
enjoys a yomp in the open green

That day at Clevedon under the blanket in plein air
Fly-bitten in dunes
Back of the blue Mini      Rabbit and Hare  

They get stuck in my eye as netsuke
of carved mammoth tooth
in the root and bend of a rutting couple
How frightened he was at the end

When hoarfrost appears as ice flowers
on the glass they are so warm in my arms
I wear them all day


Julie Maclean