Two poems by Rachael Ikins




Not the End: Rabbit

—Spring Melt



body’s crumple

mistaken for snow-slush.

Greyed melt off some vehicle’s

mud-flaps.


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.