← v15n1, Spring 2016
Poetry · Volume 15, Number 1

Rabies

Claude says beware when creatures lose their fear

of you, of daylight—become afraid instead

of water, even in hottest July. You cannot

trust what looks like taming, the skunk ambling

into the dooryard, fox slowed, a torporous

emergence from the trees, from the thorn-etched

bracken as though saved, answering God’s

call, or yours. Unmistakable,

the transfiguration you must destroy,

the single shot to the head, the severing of it

to send the skull—its brain—in a sack

to Richmond for the accounting, to prove

what you already know. The rest of it, though,

you are to burn at home in the barrel with the trash.