Rabbit Killer

The Rabbit Killer

“The sanctity of a

trapline desecrated”

—Ted Hughes

“The Rabbit Catcher”

Birthday Letters

You caught me—

Trapped me like your prey

I was gasping for oxygen—

As you tried to strangle me

But later on I got even—

Doping you with sleeping pills

I spread-eagled you in bed—

Naked, handcuffed to the posts

Knowing with my fingers—

That I was rabbit-catcher now

You were shocked waking up—

The sanctity of your butch manhood

Bleeding with a quirky twist—

A snare-line tight around your cock

Its copper-wire gleam—

Without a word I tightened it

A woman’s conniving contrivance—

Clamped tight around your prick

How does it feel now I said—

My blunt fingers, bloody cuticles

You struggled & tried to scream—

But I gagged you with your shorts

Now I was going to get even—

For all those strangled innocents

You tried to plead with me—

Those big Yorkshire eyes of yours

In my dybbuk fury I thought of—

All the times I despised making love

Your grubby English fingers—

Greedy, grabbing me all over

And now this last domestic drama—

And you knew it was your demise

Baffled that you weren’t flaccid—

But I’d coaxed your prick erect

Giving you your last blowjob—

Before I did my murderer husband in

I wept for all the dead rabbits—

Your butchering them in my kitchen

Your fingers in their blood and guts—

Butchering the poor things in the sink

I pretended not to pay attention—

To your orgasmic weak-kneed love

As you stroked the soft entrails—

Just as I was going to do to you

You were terribly hypersensitive—

Your 10” penis was your killer

You didn’t make love to me in bed—

You strangled and tortured me nightly

And now it was my turn to get even—

My doomed Yorkshire killer lover

You alone understood how it felt—

When I strangled it down there

Letting you squirt and ooze—

Your precious jizz-jet

Trembling in bed—

Feeling it one last time