Rabbitman
The teacher gave lessons
We could use later
Against shiftlessness
and sloth
But he couldn’t look us straight in the eye
But he couldn’t look us straight in the eye
Me in the front row with
the longing mouth
Hot for Miss Caron’s
slipping buttons
He was called Rabbitman almost to his face by the Italian punks
He was called Rabbitman almost to his face by the Italian punks
Who left carrots on his
desk on Mondays
The greens of which he tweezed between
The greens of which he tweezed between
His index finger and
thumb
His eyes were low as a
beaten dog’s
Staring down for some time after them
Staring down for some time after them
Into the metal garbage
can
Near his tasseled shoes under the desk
He cried when Kennedy died
Near his tasseled shoes under the desk
He cried when Kennedy died
In front of me
His shoulders collapsed
The back of his pant legs
The back of his pant legs
Rumpled on the edge of
the desk
We couldn’t look
We couldn’t look
His soft heart digging a
desperate hole
His shoulders shaking
his suit
Me who didn’t know what
to think about anything—
God, I’d never seen his
pants so wrinkled
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