Cabin At Deer Lake
by Lorraine Lynch Geiger
Tuesday, August 13, 2002
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Cabin At Deer Lake
I wasn't tall enough
to hold the poor rabbit
by the hind feet
without its head
thumping the floor.
So, I stood on a chair.
Grampa skinned that rabbit
quicker than I could think,
"Should I open my eyes yet?"
I was glad
he stopped at the neck,
not wanting dead things
staring at me.
Gramma's recipe
stirred in her head
as I grimaced an excuse
not to eat supper.
It was one of those evenings
when the sky turned blood red
from horizon to horizon.
And I wondered
what it would really be like
on the last day.
Lorraine Geiger
2nd Place, FSPA contest 1993
Published Florida State Poets Association Anthology 12 |
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