You’ll find two rabbits, dressed and hung
above the ram’s horn, above the citron.
The table half-draped in damask
in need of ironing. You’ll find east light
too harsh for still life, yet wait and the rabbit slumps
on the hook, wait and the fly arrives.
You make an adjustment. Remove the rabbits;
arrange a pyre of tinder at the base
of the ram’s horn, behind the citron.
You will not light it, the pyre, you will not
enjoy its opulent rage. Listen instead
to the carillon luring the winter sun to sleep
while the ram’s horn and citron
throw a fool’s cap shadow on the wall.
2 Free Back Issues
Receive updates on our latest ventures, exclusive essays from our editors, discount offers, and more, direct to your email.