he bought her rabbits

he bought her rabbits:
soft trembling bodies of fur to suffer her
six year old tears, fearful feet on foreign
soil, the dank quiet of wet wood and
hay. in the spring, april showers softly
danced across joyful grass, in summer they
ran like dogs in a yard; in winter, they lay
cold and forgotten in the sulk of a december
frost. all year round the house stayed
golden and warm. the stove was always
threateningly bubbling with the promise of a
stew, the broken glass lay unswept on the
cellar floor, and at night he became a
Minotaur; pacing the boards of his maze-home,
broken and drunk with madness, her little body
shrinking at his touch, her rabbits breaking
between his fingers.