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