Rabbit: An Ars Poetica

for Aaron

I hate
to spoil

solitude

[with loneliness / find it difficult to talk about

malocclusion, my silence long in the tooth.]

I want my
brother to understand
just how animal

he appears—
a specter

of wildfire haze.
I want to
warm him like

fur on the
riverbank—the perfect
curve of his

spine proof that
we made it /
are making it.