A journal of narrative writing.

Listen to Civics
read by Ken Poyner

Ihave no quarrel with the right Of the rabbitry to revolt. Their grievances are no less substantial than my own. In their thousands they take To suburban streets and lawns, Overrun ornamental gardens, drive back The foot high fences along gravel walks. I stand by their authority to require A redress of history, a reconsideration Of the current outcome of events. Nonetheless, I keep my shotgun near, and I am cleaning Father’s old twenty-two caliber rifle. Eventually Everything comes down to resource allocation And one man with a rifle trumps Entire divisions of an impoverished army. The rabbits line up haunch to haunch, Expect to punctuate their demands With order. Targets. Noble targets In the leadership, ordinary targets in the ranks. I pull on my red nose, slip into My oversized shoes and feather The legs of my heavenly air balloon pants. I go out to my neighbors, all Disguised as circus clown runaways, And we swear that as a class this night We will give nothing back.