I fall into a hare’s being
she opens herself for me.
I slip in, climb
the staircase of her ribs,
and settle close to her
sparking, twitching heart.
Scents, earthy and herbal
wrap my head in a meadow scarf.
Long ears twist to catch sound,
vibrations, high and low.
I can hear earthworms tunnel lazily,
as bird’s scribble notes on sky,
taste the green of Spring in grass,
as sunshine soaks into my fur.
I look out through shining
amber eyes, see field and hedge
blur as my legs hurl
over scrub and heather,
lungs gulp in clear air as
I flow, bounding the furrows.
to lie at last under an opal moon
Together – After Terrance Hayes The Golden Shovel honouring Gwendolyn Brooks
Tiny hand clasps hand as we
skip to school with a real
zeal to learn but a longing for cool.
One told off but we
weep together, lives fused, left
to sit side by side at school.
One attacked both become weapon, we
seek to hide as we lurk
in shadow, wait until safe, get home late
but make parents believe all is well when we
know we would strike
and starve for each other, walk straight
down a path of our own choosing, we
will always band together, sing
our own tune believing it no sin
for we have each other and we
could care less what anyone thinks, not the thin
popular pretty or even the scary gin-
ger kid, psycho in making, no, we
just strive to avoid, skipping like jazz
our legs dancing like bees bustling in June
sipping flowers careless and free we
don’t give a fig, never think we may die
but share life together and not part soon.