Early Through Winter

Someone went shooting rabbits last night 
blasting any flesh too slow to dodge. 

I track the powdered ground until I toe 
a scarlet gash melted to concrete. 

The red drags a few feet to a white jackrabbit 
whose stiff legs thrust outward. 

I try kicking snow to cover its trail 
but the dead eye reminds me 

of the chill 
in my hands and I step away 
to the street.