“Perhaps all your vision . . .”
Perhaps all your vision bases
are claims made in darkness.
The subtleties of hare versus rabbit
are best met and measured
out of sight.

Fact: medals are issued
from the core of the earth
without discrimination.
Gold is a moment of other-colored softness
in the hard majority of the rabbit's tread.

Fact: minor excavations are most dangerous.
Given an opening,
rain fills in the spaces.
From each drop something
will come up.
In such conditions, the enthusiasm
of rabbits collapses sluices.

Emergence is a gasp mechanism
encouraged by flooding.

For every cock there is a ribbon
to declare. That is surface etiquette.
The mounded exit soil looms
presided over by fowl-shaped pomp
and iridescence.
The sound of crowing falters
just under the duff —
an abducted bell.
The rooster renders himself hoarse
with habit, lifts his face to rain.

Above ground the air is an element
of spurs and blue hitting.
Clouds are hemmed in gold thread,
doves bleed perpetually at peace,
and the moon offers its dim horns
to the morning.

Parity is a matter of drowning.





Mary Mc Mullen resides on the central coast of California. She writes poetry. She also makes mud pies but rarely eats them.