The Barn

I owned
           a bunny
Fluffy or Flopsy
fed
drops of hot chocolate
from a spoon. Mom was             absent
grocery-shopping or
            hay-forking or
buying Mojos from the Greenstreet
gas-station. It's boarded
                        up now, abandoned
            like the barn
            by the dugout. Cracked
cement and rotting
wood Dad said not to walk
                       on. It was there
                       on top
its body lay. That white, white fur
rigid
            in the corner



lingering.