Felix
By Rachel Hoarau
(Photo by Pixel Free Images)
My paw pads aren’t callused like my mother’s. They are soft and pink. The light is bright, and I can hardly see.
Mom licks my head
Says bye bye and runs out of the den
I want to go out there, too! It looks so bright and green.
A year has gone by and I’m running every day,
Crushing green sprouts in soft soil and spilling down over the hillside, nearly falling into the chittering brook.
There is another like me in the brook’s wavy water. He is red and white with deep brown eyes. I dance with him. I think he really likes me because
If I jump, he does, too, and if I scream, he shakes the water.
Life is good.
The colors blue, gray, green, yellow, red, and brown are my world
Red are my paws suddenly
Because the rabbit I just killed is bleeding from its neck.
This is only natural, right?
Violence.
It’s my nature.
My nature is beautiful.
Even the red. It’s often sweet
Not today, though
This rabbit tastes sour– rancid.
Whatever
I pride myself still —
on having caught and killed it for dinner.
Mom?
The sunlight is suddenly so bright
It hurts my eyes
Just like the day I was born.
Mom?
Something is wrong.
My paw pads are bleeding, and my friend in the brook looks haggard. His red fur is rusted, his white is gray and his eyes are blotted red. I wished he could help me– tell me what’s happening.
This is not my beautiful nature. I’m twitching and snapping at the things I knew as my friends.
Mom?
