Goya’s Rabbit

Originally written when I was in high school in the early 1970s — roughly 1974, if the notebook it resides in is to be believed.
Revised and first posted online, 2010.

Goya drew a rabbit
that began digging 
through walls of sand
to get to you.

It longed for blood,
perhaps because he drew
the incisors
that way.

Great art comes alive,
goes to new places,
ravenous for
the unexpected.

When it comes for you
don’t assume
what you’ve always offered
will be enough to feed it.

That rabbit
became a carnivore
because Goya
allowed for it, understanding

that in spite of what
we’ve been told, the work of
Creation didn’t stop
at the end of a week —

it was merely
turned over
to new
sets of hands.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

One response to “Goya’s Rabbit

  • Eileen

    Like that ending particularly. Someone sent a cheery set of photos of unlikely relationships between animals, some predators and prey. One night a couple of years ago, there were a pair of small red foxes, two medium raccoons, two possums and two armadillos all eating birdseed together peaceably. Lately, some of the amazing animal intelligence we see and hear about, has made me seriously question whether humans are higher on the evolutionary scale.

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