Rabbit

by Eileen Murphy

A rabbit’s body: broken.

I re-hear its squeal, like a soldier’s cry,

as I dig its grave.

Stupid rabbit

sitting in lilies and palms

thinking it’s safe.

German shepherd

dives

for the rabbit—  

neighbor lady

screams,

No, Snowball! No! —

grabs it

by the neck,

shakes it,

drops

the body

on the grass by our feet.

Rabbit,

wrong place, wrong time.

Like my buddy in Kobul.

House-to-house

search, no

warning, kaboom!

In my bad dream

animal soldiers lie

on their sides

crying for their mothers.

* * * * *

“Rabbit” was first published in 13 Myna Birds.

A former Chicagolander, Eileen Murphy now lives 30 miles from Tampa. She received her Masters degree from Columbia College, Chicago. She teaches literature and English at Polk State College in Lakeland and has recently published poetry in Thirteen Myna Birds, Tinderbox (nominated for Pushcart Prize), Yes Poetry, The American Journal of Poetry, Rogue Agent, Deaf Poets Society, and other journals.