With his pink eyes closed
and REM sleep overtaking him,
Does he travel to distant lands
where, in a past life,
he rambled freely, the green meadow?
In his two-by-four wired cubicle
he cuddles himself with nothing
Will the rain ever stop?
Or, was the sunlight only a dream?
The big woman arrives,
places fresh greens through the slot.
all torn from the earth, screaming,
rinsed of their soil
by a spray nozzle hose,
to be fed, alive, to the voracious rodent.
wriggling nose, sensitive to the pungeant herbs
Bunny thoughtfully chews
his breakfast of weeds,
lop-eared gaze intent and distant,
remembering the dreams.
Friday, May 25, 1990
Posted by Elizabeth Munroz