Sunday, March 6, 2016

"--my only swerving--"

I came upon the deer, mottled light brown
and tufts of white across the neck and tail,
scared doe--eyes wide--tough hide, so lean, and frail,
perfectly hidden, colored like the ground

and the lonely barren winter hue.
She darted across the road, empty asphalt,
directly in my path, my car, no fault
of mine, I say. (Though I know that's not true.)

Perhaps it was my mind not on the road.
Perhaps, Odysseus-like, my thoughts of home,
Artemis disguised, wild undertow
pulling me thoughtlessly along. Alone,

save for the deer, and car--an entwined mystery
of life, and blood, and death in symmetry.