My grandmother tells me the story of her abandonment at every holiday dinner, every time she remembers the smell of whiskey on her father’s breath   and we drive past the birthplace of her legacy at her old childhood home. There,…

  Who let the rabbit into my room? He jumps up on my ceiling, starin’ into the gloom I hear him late at night runnin’ through my dreams Fur soft as candy floss, but oh how his eyes gleam  …