- By Franchesca Viaud
When cleaved of their fur, rabbits look like they do not come from our planet.
Perhaps they came to us, bare, from yours.
Perhaps some of you came here with these creatures, their muscle and fat
smooth around their lungs—the size of thumbs—and their eyes
protruding from their faces, like emaciated cats.
—from "Track Eight: 'Alienation of Affection,'" Volume 64, Issue 3 (Fall 2023)
Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.
One of the first poems I ever finished is called “Cabinet of...