passed a deer last night
–
not in the way you imagine though
–
no majestic forest king
grazing
in the overgrowth
–
‘stead
he was sprawled out
like a burst sausage
–
there
on the side of the road
dead eye gaze
–
split scarred
torn and broken
–
on a bed of
dirt
and gravel
–
it rained that night
matting the fur of his
stiffening frame
pooling
as it met with
blood
–
washing out
onto the pavement
–
string of traffic lights and
a nearby gas station
lit the ground brilliantly
in an orchestra of
gore and light
flowing
like a river of strawberry wine
towards a ditch
–
i never stopped
just
drove
through that sickening stream
–
what I did notice
was
how
even now
he seemed to still
be focused on
where he was headed
–
guess that’s why
he didn’t see what got him