The Light at the End of the Universe (poem)

Not the bioluminescence¬† of fireflies pulsing around the maple   out back, nor evening sunfire flying through purple dusk, but¬†   the weak electric glow on unmoving brown fur.¬†   A young rabbit. Huddled in the paintbrush shadows   beneath my workbench. Dead. Stretched on its side,   unbloodied, unbroken, perfect save for its stillness. … Continue reading The Light at the End of the Universe (poem)