Luke finds the head of a rabbit
in the backyard – he carries it
in his huge jaws, swallows it whole
until he spits it out again at my feet.
I see its black eyes and matted fur
and the red, wet inside of its throat.
Luke watches me, to see what I will do
but I cannot move. So he takes the rabbit
head again, closes his mouth around it.
He stares at me, like this is our own private
secret, this dead thing he carries.
I want to grab his face, force about his teeth
and bury that severed head deep in the ground.
But what would that teach him?