In the woods, a thick-skinned girl turns her head away from the dying rabbit and turns her foot towards it. Bone on bone comes crashing down, and, in that moment, a universe is born. It is said that the universe was created when a god swallowed dirt; here, in reality, one is created when something living lives no more. Cresting a wave of soil, the rabbit’s neck crumbles into half a dozen sprouting ferns, vertebrae-thin and white as bloodless bone. There is stagnation, however, when the beetle refuses to procreate with the moth. Dragonflies will now not exist, and the girl is troubled. Too busy being Mother to play God, she picks up the cicada’s discarded skin and forms the dragonfly from that, using insect instinct to finish the deed before turning back to her bees. Her children flock to her, humming contently, suck honey from her breasts peaked like hives, and all this from a rabbit’s spine. Thump, thump, rabbit heart; what have you wrought? What have you brought?
Tara Abrahams is a philosophy student at the University of Toronto who enjoys collecting and setting up dead things, as long as all the fur and flesh has been removed. She also collects words and arranges them in neat little patterns. Some of her arrangements have been featured in Paper Darts, Thistle Magazine, and The Mall. More can be found at her blog.
–Art by Diana Cretu