March 2021
John Dorroh
travelerjd59@gmail.com
Bio Note: Back in normal times, I used to irritate my friends when I picked up my cell phone to make a note concerning an idea for a poem. If I don't write it down, it's gone. Often I have epiphanies while taking a shower, so I keep a pad and pen on my side of the bathroom countertop. Ideas are gifts that, in my case, evaporate, if I don't make a note. And that's fine with me. My poems have appeared in Feral, Os Pressan, North Dakota Quarterly, and several others.

Winter Rabbit With Bacon in the Air

The barn door is open from last night’s wind. Icicles hang from the eaves of the house like silver teeth of a winter monster. There are chores that won’t get done without me. Layering up to a point where it’s hard to bend my body. No frozen pipes, please. I meet my timid friend, the dark-gray rabbit I’ve named Earl. He seems to watch every move I make. Probably not interested in the steam coming from my head, nor the slow motions of pitchfork-hay bale marriage; of excitement from the chickens as they cackle and move toward my hands as if they radiate substantial heat. My movement is labored. I examine every board of exposed gray wood, inspect the corners for signs of rats and other rodents who often seek shelter in this sanctuary. Rabbit waits, hops away from barn toward scratchy naked brambles. Invisible cloud of bacon air siphons itself into my nostrils. Someone inside cares.
©2021 John Dorroh
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