Current
Issue
Volume 12.2
Cecelia Hagen
—
Orphans
Having leapt from the egg
basket, the rabbit decided it was tired
of playing chicken. Under the barbecue grill
it adjusted its glasses, checked
its reflection in the French doors, then
went off into the first field
that spread its arms.
Oh difficult
keychain of daisies,
oh sandbox encircling
children who dig deep,
what sweeps of spring we sip.
We remember the rabbit and eat the eggs
laid by chickens who hatched from eggs
that were plucked from the original basket—
original to us, at least.
It turns out the memories of the ancients
have soared past and left us orphans,
more than a little burdened
by stories dimly recalled.
Have you met the wind, the clouds ask,
and we realize we are not sure.
Bio Copy here
