the bunny planet

is where we move like molasses, caught in an ever sinking boat, a slow motion descent into muddy banks of a river going dry... or flooding the farm land. i crawl forward, you crawl backward, into some tiny opening, some crack of hope that closes on command. i have gum stuck in my hair. you are drowning. forget the punch line or third act, don't look back. the world is ending and you have in your hand a small newborn kitten eyes still closed cold and waiting for morning. we try to wrap blankets around us and the cold still seeps in like our bones are an ice sculpture that won't melt, our flesh clings and then hardens and gets dry. any heat burns and the sun looks like death. so i lay on the beach and i am fire. from that moment all the colors of my universe brightened like snowflakes melting on a rosy red cheek warm from running through the snow, up the steep incline towards the cabin bathed in sunlight gushing ribbons of red and ruthless warmth that pierces our hearts like arrows of wax that melt and drip and stain the tablecloth leaving reminders, marks of remembering a holiday dinner or a wedding party when someone lost a contact and went searching by firelight, went looking in every little corner, went searching and not finding, again and again until she was exhausted, collapsed and staring upward at rainbows of soft dust that fall on your face, that fall and settle there in blues and oranges and reds, on your cheek, on your eyelid, on your upper lip. and you are facing upward, like adoration, like rapture, towards the light.