They crawl inside my mind
those little children shot
by the most recent madman.
They multiply in my thoughts,
try to escape,
horror on their faces,
fall asleep when I don’t think of them
as I move through my day.
They wake me from my daymare
as the pantry door opens,
at the turning on the stairs,
as I wash my face
see their eyes blink back
from the glass darkly.
They stare back, live there
until the next ones
dislodge, hutch in.
Rabbit scream.
Originally published in Rhodora Magazine