Two poems by Rachael Ikins

Not the End: Rabbit

—Spring Melt

body’s crumple

mistaken for snow-slush.

Greyed melt off some vehicle’s


You, splayed

in the road

at the end

of my driveway.

Almost April.

Crocus nibbler.

Phosphorescent tail-

bobber weaving darkness.

Leaver of packeted pellets.

Hiding under the catnip,

eating my clematis, holly berries,

corn from the bird-feeders;

Night I crept to your shadow’s edge.

Wind hid you.

Shattered in the road

Spring lifts herself, droplets

salty from asphalt,

pain of a scraped knee.