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The Jackalope

A Poem About Erasing People from your Life and the Regret that may Follow

The jackalope is a mythical creature from North American folklore, with a body of a jackrabbit and antelope horns. Legends state that they can be dangerous creatures and can also imitate the human voice. The only way to catch a jackalope is to entice it with whiskey. In this poem, the jackalope can represent whatever you please. An old friend, someone you love or just anything you miss. We all want something back, and the worst feeling is realizing how special something/someone was to you after having been erased from your life.

The jackalope that haunts my home,

tells me stories from long ago.

Of a black sun that used to gleam,

And milky white skies, thick like cream.

Beside each other, we sit fondly,

Upon the roots, our house sits softly.

I had never found his presence a pother,

for one could not live without the other.

 

Then once upon a midnight eve,

he pulled a new trick, from under his sleeve.

He mimicked my voice and called me names,

would pull my hair, all types of cruel games.

I pushed him away, and up I leaped,

I ran to my room and began to weep.

For I had trusted this creature my whole life,

I could not believe we had strife.

 

I went back to see him the next day,

my heart trembling with colors of grey.

Where I last left him, there was the monstrosity,

Not seeming harmed by last night’s atrocity.

 

He looked at me, then smiled suspiciously,

“Didst thou sleep deliciously?”

To the creature, this was a mighty burlesque,

My heart ached, and I felt grotesque.

 

I went to the kitchen, now red with rage,

If this was his new job, I would give him a wage.

I shuffled until I found the bottle of whiskey,

Soon the creature would no longer be frisky.

 

I went back and drenched him with the drink,

He seemed surprised but then began to shrink.

He disappeared slowly into the ground,

He created a puddle, and in that he drowned.

It is a known fact, one that need not be spoken,

that from whiskey, a jackalope’s spell will be broken.

 

I stared at the puddle, realizing my mistake,

my heart felt empty, releasing a new type of ache.

What if the creature did not mean what he said,

feeling all alone now, my tears began to shed.

For he was my jackalope, and I loved him dearly,

and it is only now that I understand love clearly.

 

The jackalope no longer haunts my home,

I no longer hear stories from long ago.

I sit by myself now, wishing for the sun to turn black,

and hope that one day, my creature will come back.

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Written by Nilofer Rolston

Nilofer Rolston is an aspiring novelist from Canada who likes to read, write, and watch horror movies in her spare time. Her instagram is @niiilofer

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