A Dead Deer


I came upon her body,

Lying on the asphalt,

Irregularly shaped pools of crimson liquid under her neck.


A sunny day, not too hot,

Already beginning to bloat

Or might there be a fawn inside?


Clearly the doe was dead.

I didn’t like her exposed like that.

I wanted her on the grassy side.


As I contemplated touching her

An image of her leaping up and

Attacking me jolted my mind.


Timidly I approached her hind legs,

Wrapping my hands around delicate tawny ankles

Above her now useless hoofs.


She lie now in the shallow ditch and I felt relief.

Aligning her with the earth’s curves

Dried grass and weeds were her last bed.


Three tiny dandelion flowers placed on her neck,

Three where the front legs met her chest

In that indentation, as in our bodies.


Three more carefully arranged on her hindquarters.

I thought I was done,

but the blood on the road disturbed me.


A tiny bouquet of yellow flowers now graced her blood,

please forgive our fast-paced lives.


My work was done.


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