Poetry Contest Winning Entry!

The First Bi-Weekly Phoenix Poetry Contest Has A winner! Enjoy the odic musings of Reuben Gelley Newman ‘21
On the Morning of the Lunar Eclipse
your mother hears thrashing
and when she wakes up
looks downstairs, outside:
a rabbit whose feet
were snapped
in rat traps clattering
across grey concrete.
Before you call Animal Rescue,
the rabbit slips
into green:
the beast is unseen,
soft, brown, fleeing
into the garden.
you capture it––snap––
in the black hole
of your phone, curled
like a fetus in a black
net, newly freed
and cradled in the mesh.
The rescuers let it hop
into a cage in their truck,
and they drive off as the sky
begins to darken,
and then you can only see
black, and then, the sun,
it comes back.

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