by Sarah Carson

When the dog sinks her dull teeth
into the down of the rabbit,

we say She must have really wanted
that one.

Blood lust, we call it. Carnal.
Both the meat &

the pain it suffered—
Tender. Raw.

Oh, we moan.
We keen.

Fall to our knees
& kiss the muzzle.

The empty chamber
of her open mouth—

weapon & instrument
of affection.

Killer, we call her.
We feed her bones

from our own plates.
Good girl, we say.

What a good girl.

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Sarah Carson is the author of poems, short stories, and essays that have appeared in such places as Brevity, Guernica, The Missouri Review, and DIAGRAM, as well as the full-length poetry collection, How to Baptize a Child in Flint, Michigan (Persea Books). You can read more of her work at stuffsarahwrote.com.