elegy for a landmark

the rabbit corpse on the brown grass is ripped like a plush toy at the neck.he marks the spot near the trees on Johnsonbetween my home and the sidewalk squarethat says VISCERAL in spraypaint. the first time i saw his mud tipped fur and neatly stacked haunches,i jumped –  each day i saw him, bleak paws as i left, matte blackbeetle eye as i returned home and each time, i lingered a moment longer.i’d only ever seen the roadkill cadaver of a rabbit before. once my childhood catchased a mole into the house and killed it at the bottom of the staircasebut i didn’t look. she’d always leave toads and birds on our welcome mat in a neat line. one day she never came home. where i live, i know no one is tidy enough orsentimental enough to move the open-necked creatureout of public sight. soon he became a landmarkand a source of silent entertainmenthere was my game:lurk some paces back from anotherquicken as he came, and observe. i remember the rabbits from my home town.there was some chemical in the water or the lawns that resulted in a high mutation rate. a bump between the eyes, protruding from the skull. the horned creatures fidgeted behind every pine tree, in every aluminum eave.  my brother swore he’d seen one with a third eye someone finally cleaned upthat dead rabbit, with its missing jugularand like missing a stair in the middle of the nighti faltered in step, expectingmy rabbit to greet me.