The Cult Leader Catches a Rabbit

The last rabbit that tried to run from your yard
didn’t make it. You caught it

bare-handed (squirming and kicking
and mewling) and broke its neck.

The sick crack wasn’t enough.
You took a paring knife to it,

Skinned bunny down to muscle, to nothing at all
in a blacked-out bloodletting.

A tongue to tooth gutting,
red spooling out like petals

on the sidewalk. A deathwedding.
You used every part.

Cut the foot off, make a token of luck
from the cursed little thing.