The David Bowie Phase

It was a phase

I’m pretty sure

everyone goes through it

In the months

after I watched Labyrinth for the first time

I developed a crush on Jennifer Connelly

and an obsession with David Bowie

My mom refused to buy me pants like his

but I tried to improvise as best I could

strategically placing safety pins

along the back of my pant legs

to make my grey sweat pants skin-tight

The hair was easy

with enough of my sisters hairspray

I could make magic happen

My parents put an end to my prancing

when they came home and saw me

dressing up our dog to look like Ziggy Stardust

and singing a duet of Changes

(ventiloquism’s been a secret talent of mine,

I’m told since birth)

After that they took down all my posters

confiscated my cassette tapes

and signed me up for little league football

But the crush on Jennifer Connelly

that I still have.

How Sweet It Is

[Palette cleanser for the bunny poem. Best if read listening to the song.]

Woke up to grey skies

fresh puddles on concrete

the threat of new ones

But I hummed

cooking thick slices of bacon

there was a bounce in my step

on my walk to school

It was the first time

in a long spread

I wished the sun had come out

instead of overcast

As a compromise

I listened to Marvin Gaye

sing candy-sweet

love songs.

Bunny Rabbits

[disclaimer: this is a depressing poem. let the reader be aware.]

"If your right hand makes you stumble, cut it off and throw it from you; for it is better for you to lose one of the parts of you body, than for you whole body to go into hell."

Matthew 5:3o

What’s forgotten

in the stories

of rabbits

gnawing off legs

caught in traps

is the time

involved.

The general sense

of sacrifice

is remembered.

Not many

can picture the scene

without recognizing

the pain.

But the time

gets ignored.

Rabbit teeth

aren’t designed

for tearing flesh.

A job like that

would take

time.

Hours?

Days?

How many starve

while chewing?

How many die of blood loss

before freeing themselves?

How many give up and wait

for something, a savior or hunter,

to put an end to their plight?

How long do you suppose

they’d have to wait?