Disorder/Rabbit

I wore her

disorder as a

raincoat

for the spring of tears.

I took her voice.



Shivering, I

went over

the insights of her diary

with a pen

in a fat blue book that made up

for my not having

a body that spring.



I wanted to be the man she loved

who loved her

shivering.  I wanted to know what it’s like

to have desire.



* *

I went off

to find it

in the desert,

which is savage



but where rabbits are.

And ravens,

wise enough to know

you have a gun

when you walk across the field.

I never plowed that field.



On the low road

hardly visible

I took that gun to where the old car carcasses

lay, thick with

rabbits, &

I plowed that field.

I didn’t leave a grave.