I almost didn’t see
The soft tan carpet of your bodies
Against the limp brown summer grass

But for the interruption

Of that silence of Death

The hardworking buzz of the flies

Commuting to and from your closed eyes

As precious and tiny as little pearls

The mewling of the black cat

Rolling among the pavers

Begged for my attention

After the hunt

But I could not look away

From the smallness of your bodies

I could hold both of you together

If I cupped my hands

You had just been taken from

Your world of hopping and hiding

And eating the dandelions

That will eat you

You lie as if under a spell

From a magician

There is no blood on your flanks

And your fur shines

As if you will rise and shake it off

I feel a softness for you

Because your whole life

Was lived afraid of those

Larger than you

With sharper teeth

Because the nature

Of tiny baby bunnies

Is to die

And you are born knowing

But I feel a softness, too

For the black cat with one and a half ears

Whose nature is to hunt

She killed you and laid you out

On the lawn for joy and

Out of love for her owner

Cassius Love

Biography: Cassius Love is a first-year student studying microbiology. He enjoys writing poems and (very occasionally) plays, and was featured on KBVR-TV’s Lyrical Lounge program reading original poetry in 2024. Cassius is from Washington State, and enjoys being in theater productions, watching Star Trek, and listening to Spanish ska music in his free time.

Artist Statement: This piece was a reflection on the titular event, and also somewhat inspired by Mary Oliver’s poetry. It was a very honest reaction to finding the dead rabbits – I saw them and immediately needed to write a poem. It was a small moment of the conflict of my personification of animals and the reality of nature – I love my neighbor’s cat, but it did kill those rabbits, and it also does not operate under human ethics. This poem fits the theme of “Roots” because there is no deeper root to life than death and life that springs from death.