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December 1, 2017 Poetry

The rabbit's bones

Hannah Allen

The rabbit's bones photo

The break of summer was an instant success
with couples in the Tapas Restaurant
on Beacon Street. The old moon in the new
blue sky, the first taste of rabbit

over a pitcher of sangria
and those tiny rabbit bones
hidden in the cooked meat like a marriage
proposal. Subtraction, division,

rabbit bones, rabbit lives, wedding cakes,
anniversaries, the June wedding ring
tied around my thumb. The lucky foot
missing from the dinner table. Summer,

when the glitzy pedestrians come out
to see the happy ending of the day,
to celebrate the ascension of the rabbit.
It was my idea to order the rabbit meat.

You just nodded your head.


image: Bryan Bowie