

Squirrel Season (1987), one of Sally Mann's photographs of her son Emmett
In the storefront windowsof restaurants in Spainskinned rabbits hang
above cazuelas of pluckedchickens nesting in lemons& naked toes of garlic.
Whether rabbits or alley cats
more easily snared, someonehad to skin them &
someone had to learn to skin.
An old man in Kansasteaches young boys
to sack & sink unwanted litters
of mammals. His handsare tight, his face
rhubarb at the absence
of his own son; there areparks surely, or places
where a boy might just
eat a pear. But also wherea boy named Emmett
alone with a knife might
poke below a squirrel’slimp lip, & just because
finding that he could, peel it
back and back, unleashingbright color & slick
liquid over the hardening
body. Emmett nowholds two of them
as required props behind
squared off glass, alongwith his own open
dull mouth, eyes, forehead
& brows unsureof what his holding
two skinned mammals
is supposedto mean.