Shall I sample the ears of the Easter bunny first, or nibble at his legs?
Bite by bite, I will eat the body of the patriarchy,
absorb it, obliterate it, reclaim my destiny.
He won’t even squeal as I devour him,
and his violence, obscured by a smirking cuddly facade,
shall be ended.
The Lindt rabbit my husband gives me
has but a brief life and its sweetness nourishes my revolt.