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at 3:00 a.m. two-lane road, all curves and dips- dark woods, a stream, a patchy acre of teazle and grass. You don't see the deer till they turn their heads- roads full of eyes
You crank the wheel, stamp both feet on the brake, skid and jolt into the ditch. Glitter and crunch of broken glass in your lap, deer hair drifting like dust.
Your chin and shirt are soaked-one eye half- obscured by the cocked bridge of your nose. The car still running, the lights angled up at the trees. You get out. The deer lies on its side.
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