XXVIII - BUNNY.

is today the day

i'll be completely

devoured?

hungry eyes

and kneading hands

on the laps of men

i've never met

anxiously ravenous

at the sight 

of my being.

i am not entirely 

delightful -- 

just a hole in the bark

of a tree full of sap

to be bottled and savored

and envied and wanted.

and if they cannot feast

on the fruits of my spirit,

then they will daydream

of gnawing at

the meat on my bones.

a world of no manners.

a table with no placemat

for me.

i am the meal,

whether i want to be

or not,

for i may be able 

to swat away their hands

but i cannot 

turn away 

their thoughts.

and the knowledge of that

is truly horrific.