Rabbit Skin

when I was born
my hair was all white

when it turned brown
it was grabbed and was

used to attack me. a
rabbit jumps up and

he keeps floating
upwards. the tooth

I am missing is put
gently back into

my mouth. it’s easy
each month I scorch

my hair like I am
starting a mercury

lantern. like I am
burning the shape

of a rooster onto the
side of a barn. when

I open my mouth I
see the chemicals

that have been used to
arrange me. Neatly in

Identical rows.
oxytocin cortisol

dopamine when I
touch my hair

my hair turns
to paper my

skin turns back to
the skin of a rabbit

I want you
to know that

I could bite
through gold

If I wanted to
If I wanted to

I could say
what’s been


David Freeman is a poet and playwright from Long Lake, MN. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in The Kenyon Review Online, Prairie Schooner, The Massachusetts Review, and others. He is the recipient of the Nicholas Meyer Award for Dramatic Writing and the Tennessee Williams Award for Playwriting. He currently lives in Chicago, IL. More information about his work can be found at www.davidefreeman.com.

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