On a four-lane highway a little after dusk:
Driving down the steep hill just before the crucifix,
A wounded deer, jerking motions after the first hit.
In the middle of conversation while taking mom to bingo:
A sharp move to the left to avoid the hunter's game;
Thank God, no other car was in that lane.
Shaken, I drove on.
Seconds before:
The deer was nailed,
Unintentional--
An older man driving a stationwagon
Already pulled over by the time I go past the church.
Going up that hill on the return trip home:
The deer had been sedated, lifeless as it lay in the bed of a pick-up truck.
No flowers, no grave, no name--
Sanguine tears soak the pavement;
A sight unseen by anyone now.
But every day new prey
With hardened stares
Await the blender of steel-belted radials
To pound it into the earth little by little--
Like a human's ashes but without the dignity.
A cat in the turn lane as I approach my street:
The best I can do is avoid its scattered remains
As it dies beyond death.
revised August 19, 1997
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