I don't want to go a gentle journey, from convoluted to convalescence. I quit drinking again; found love in the psych ward. She's my broken-winged angel. So much pain behind that sweet smile. She's drinking again, and I can't fix her. It hurts, like an arrow through the stomach.
I have a rabbit that comes to my yard. She lies in the same spot every day. So much so, that she has worn down a place for herself--the surrounding grass grows around her. She feels safe. I feed her spinach, and my brother sings her show tunes. That's what we get for having a drama teacher for a father. Thanks, Dad.
It's been an unseasonably cold April. I feel sorry for Harvey; That's her name, thanks again Dad. I talk to her softly. "Hi, baby--what are you doing? Do you want to come in?" She doesn't answer. I'm sober. I want to take care of her... Both of them... My two little bunnies. It's cold, and the wind is blowing hard, beneath a mean grey sky.
I dedicate this poem (a repost) to my friend, Dawn Holt who passed away last week. RIP. Here's a link to my you tube channel where I read this poem and others from my book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, available on Amazon. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rHB1Q13LID4