"In the bowl the hare is aborted,
Its baby head out of the way, embalmed in spice,
Flayed of fur and humanity,
Let us eat it like Plato's afterbirth,
Let us eat it like Christ."
I distinctly remember heading to my writing desk immediately after reading these lines and writing the remaining eight poems of the chapbook in one sitting. Plath's poem was truly the epiphany I had been looking for. I suddenly understood why the hare was my totem animal guiding me through the poems of this chapbook. I hope you too might be curious to follow the hare and see where it will lead you.
Hop hop! And, thank you.