Rabbit Girl Leaps Up

“I wanted to write a poem that moves like an abstract painting, blurring between dream and reality.”

I wanted to write a poem that moves like an abstract painting, blurring between dream and reality. A while back, I spent some time living outside the city and close to a river. For a few months, in the midst of transitioning from one chapter of my life to another, I woke up while it was still dark and walked along the river to greet the colors of sunrise as they slipped over the nearby mountaintops. In that hazy early morning fog of gold and fresh, glittering dew, I felt both a strong sense of clarity and as though I were moving through layers of dreams, as I stepped forward. Even then, lost as I was, the music and colors of the city continued pulling me back  — not just because I had to commute there for work, but because of the future possibilities it contained, humming and twinkling, on the other sides of doors if I dared open them. When we take the leap, sometimes it turns out that we open doors not only to other places and people, but to our waiting selves.

Rabbit Girl Leaps Up
  • & dissolves into moonbeams. 
  • Crickets tune grass strings 
  • to the stream’s slow tumble 
  • of dreams bubbled higher 
  •  with each twitch of her petal-
  • soft nose. One bubble glows 
  • cerulean, lavender, sakura pink. 
  • Unfolds a prismatic gateway 
  • into another universe where 
  • she molts her fursuit & bounds 
  • out into the electric city flow 
  • as an almost but not quite 
  • human girl. Ears hidden under 
  • black hoodie scarved in aurora. 
  • Low bass hum & fuzzy green 
  • clover scent spills from the door 
  • of an art gallery. She is pulled 
  • inside by a painting on the wall 
  • that shows a girl brushing violets 
  • along the curve of another 
  • girl’s ears. Both neither rabbit 
  • nor human, just somewhere 
  • in the infinite meadow of it all. 
  • Wishing she could embrace 
  • the artist, she gazes & gazes 
  • until her vision glitches crystalline. 
  • A kindling of rainbow within 
  • quartz faces. A glimpse of some 
  • familiar silhouette-
  • and the gateway folds her back 
  • through bubbled tunnel to where 
  • crickets sing again by the stream 
  • holding slivered moonbeams. 
  • She lands on her feet in the grass 
  • & sighs. Another fleeting jump. 
  • Then, a tender floral wind kisses 
  • her nose. Breathing in deep, 
  • she steps through sweet clover 
  •  & follows it to a single paintbrush 
  • nestled into a patch of violets
  • in full, luminous bloom.

“Rabbit Girl Leaps Up” was written in August 2023 and was originally published in DOG TEETH.

lae astra believes in total liberation. An agender trans artist and writer, they were born in Guilin, grew up in Mississippi, Alabama, California, and then made Tokyo their home. They like farmers markets, invertebrates, birds, experimental electronic music, and a free Palestine. They believe in tomorrow. Find them at


© 2024 Heung Coalition.