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This Work of Never Stopping "The thing that eats the heart is mostly heart." —Stanley Kunitz The cat is with child. Night upon night she kills, then preens in her gorged instinct. The murdered rabbit looks surprised, his decapitated glance, sidelong on my shovel, still trying to remember the story he once embodied: what the cat craved, the animal tale in which one's heart is eaten, another stayed home and had black kittens, given up except the runt run over by a car that never stops. Never stops. This work of never stopping. The early Lenten earth is so hard, I dig the graves with an axe. On a stump against the tree line my son in blaze orange stands with his book and hatchet. With the voice I've taught him he is calling the dog away from the foraging deer. Too many and not enough food. The hunter is a kindness they can't outrun. The rabbit is dead. The cat is with child. —Joseph Bathanti 69 ...

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