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Wrath, and: The Rabbit

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I was sitting
in my own backyard
sucking
on a blue popscicle,
as I waited for the pool water
to evaporate in the sun.

It was a hot, breezy
day, in my ninth
summer ever. My dog
was running across
the yard, chasing
rabbits that she would never catch.

I really thought they were safe.

Maybe
if I wasn’t occupied
with the clear blue liquid
which I didn’t want to drip on my bare feet
I would have seen
the rabbit
stop running
and hide in the bushes
right in plain sight.

When I got there
blood
came down in a slow dribble
with the contour of his fur.
He kicked
the air, once
twice
thrice.

Tears burst forward
making room for my jumbled thoughts.

It looked
painful.

It was
painful.

In a confused, unhappy moment, I
brought my bare left foot
onto his trembling body.

But to me, that isn’t the scary part.

In that moment, when I had expected to feel
sadness, distress, remorse,
when a normal person would feel
sadness, distress, remorse,
I felt… powerful.

The other feelings were present, but this feeling
a new feeling
overrode all of them. I was… energized.

The tears stopped. A perverse, yet powerful
energy
filled me, and with it
the expected guilt.

And so
that moment haunted me
and the monster inside me
slept
for nearly twenty years.




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