RABID RABBITS AND POT LUCK
A Poem By Rhea Dillon
- Text: Rhea Dillon
- Photography: Rhea Dillon
The charm of Rhea Dillon’s poem, “RABID RABBITS AND POT LUCK,” is the form of faith that travels throughout—for luck to work, one has to believe there are possibilities beyond imagining. In all of her work, the London-based artist, filmmaker, writer excavates the unsaid nature of the world around us. Here we read about the earth below our feet: how it can contain the small shelters and tiny bones of animals, as well as all their outsized superstitions.
please cover up the rabbit hole
fill it
twitch your chubby fingers
prod it, suck it, clench a fistful of limbo lost limbo found
scramble out of the–
Dig
dive deep learning the subcutaneous
scraping the cross hatchings of your mothers careful harvestation
blood red raw
clawed down to the smooth bone
flesh eaten by loss of limbo
limbo lost
lost engrained
deep beneath the surface
pullover momentarily
(that lasts a lifetime)
a lifetime of,
‘Where’s the neck hole of light in the darkness?’
Carry me
carry me fill me up
to the rabbit hole seal
course, I wouldn’t stumble and fall. I wouldn’t do that to you.
remember:
Potholes are good luck.
step on every one to
hold down the darkness that bubbles below skirting
Rhea Dillon is an artist, writer, and poet based in London. Through her practice she examines and abstracts her intrigue of the ‘rules of representation’ as a device to undermine contemporary Western culture as well as seeking to continually question what constitutes as the ontology of Blackness versus the ontic.
- Text: Rhea Dillon
- Photography: Rhea Dillon
- Date: May 26th, 2021
