JEN HAHN NIELSEN
How to Skin a Rabbit
spread my legs to look
for the point of thaw
my coccyx snaps from your teeth, the force
of your bones
pull my hair to test the state of my decay
the edge of my spine quivers:
dorsal cut
bend me over the rotating axle
on the fleshing machine meant for deer, bear—
separate my membranes
gently
from the tissues between my skin
and meat & fat
with a stainless steel blade. Borax my thighs, my
breasts, my
salty parts green-bellied, bloated from
the sun
deflesh my meager fat
my capillaries are breaking
turn my ears & lips &
nose until my carcass gives
marvel at the way my blood stills
over sites of trauma
the way my organs lie neatly packed
like candies behind glass
Forthcoming in A Bad Penny Review
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