Recovery Bunny

After several weeks of sleeping skin
to skin, my imaginary friend shows up
in red flannel pajamas.

Time to get my head right.
I tell my husband, “I want to make love
when you’re finished beading that bracelet.”
“It’s a necklace,” he says. Every bead
a tiny wasted day.

He heads off to Goodwill to scavenge
cubic zirconia. Ring tight on my finger,
I look for something safe to do.

Passing the local halfway house, I watch
their rabbit wander across the yard. Hop.
Nibble grass, check sky for hawks. Hop.
Tricky to resist, this gravitating to crazy.

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