beware the fields, little rabbit
though you long to run and leap
there are fox eyes staring from the grasses
and hawk eyes gleaming in the sky
though you long to run and leap
there are fox eyes staring from the grasses
and hawk eyes gleaming in the sky
beware the forests, little rabbit
though it’s cool beneath the boughs
the hunting cats creep on silent feet
and wire traps lay buried in leaves
beware the call of freedom, little rabbit
though the warren is hot and dark
the safe spaces aren’t as safe as promised
and the hunters can smell your blood
Filed under: asexuality, poetry
