Mair Cook

You were plucked as your mothers howled,

For fields and fields they cried,

Watering your empty beds.

Petals built of flaking flesh,

Sapless, bloodless you fell down dizzy.


Come here my little children,

To my garden



Massage the defrosting rabbit until it can be laid on its back. Then wet the fur down its stomach, neck to groin, parting the fur as you go. Pick up the scalpel. Trace the line you have created with your hands with the scalpel, firm enough to split the skin, but gentle enough to not go any deeper. Once the skin is parted, lightly cut away the sticky membrane that holds the skin to the body. Two envelopes either side of the rabbit’s body will start to open. Carry on cutting, sliding your hand down to help ease the skin away.


Once the skin is removed almost round to the back start easing the skin off the legs till the knee joints are revealed. Find the little ball belonging to the hip joints. Cut along this line and ease the leg out of the socket, removing it from its body. The leg is still attached to the skin by its feet, still partly covered in fur. Do the same with the front legs, finding the elbow joints and cutting the legs away.


Now the skin feels far more separate from the carcass, the skin can continue to be tugged and pulled over the head. Cutting away carefully to release the skin, being careful not to make holes. The skin needs to be pulled right back until the eyes are revealed. Cut lightly over the eye to release the skin further. With pliers cut the bone below the eyes and down both sides of the skull. The bones will crunch when they have been cut through. With some help from a scalpel that part of the head should be free to remove along with the rest of the body.


We met in a peculiar way.

I held your frosty dead body and I became cold,

I had never seen a bird so close.

My hands gave themselves to you

It wasn't enough.

I suppose you wanted real life,

But I could only offer something forged.

I wish you hadn't punished me so very carelessly.

I cried for something I never knew live.

I thought a magpie had a lust for lustre,

Your jewels were maggots,

Adorned and encrusted in you

Their gross virility retrieved you from your limbo,

In a way I wasn't able. 

Flowers gifted in grief become cloaks to disguise, feet emerge beneath the composting colour tapping monotonously: the traces of something rustling within. In the corner a tiered monstrosity resembling a human is topped with the skull of a distinctly un-human creature. The hushed tales of buried things reincarnated is what unites my characters. I see each object’s stillness as semblance for their secret story of movements; I push my voice through these still things, vibrating them into life. The unequivocal and unavoidable dependence of person and thing: a coalition of battling entities. I invite my audience into my fantasia where all things are dormant and not dead. I am reviver of these captive things and they have revived me in return.

For a single dance.

For a single dance.

I loved you into life,

For a single dance.

I gave that little body all of me,

Collapsed and bloodless,

I am

A domesticated, pantomime monster,

Dressed in cobalt blue.


Painting each of your waxy leaves,


With caress.


Nurturing you,

Suffocating you,


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