[a foreign place]

[There's something about meeting a hare
on a cool morning,
or in the dim twilight.
That black eye glows,
and you are caught:

time
stands
still.

That's how you know you've seen one
—how you know it's not a rabbit:

for a single, perfect moment
you fell into that timeless eye
(the slender ears
narrow face
ticked fur
as intangible
as to have been imagined).

In a heartbeat, it's over.

The cool morning continues
or the twilight fails further
—ordinary,
as if the world
is as it always has been
and not now a foreign place
you must fight to make your own again.]