We were at the part
of the walk
where I should have walked

away.

But instead I left a lie
hanging on the rabbit’s right ear—
a wrought-iron resting place—

a statue waiting
                         to hear.

02/27/2003

Author's Note: This poem was inspired by the oddly intriguing Franz Wright and his book The Beforelife.

Posted on 04/24/2003
Copyright © 2024 Daniel Peterson