at 3:00 a.m. Two lane road, all curves and dips- dark woods, a stream, a patchy acre
into a ditch. Glitter and crunch of broken glass in your lap, deer hair drifting like dust. Your chin and shirt is soaked- one eye half obscured by the cocked bridge of your nose. The car still running, its lights angled up at the trees. You get out. The deer lies on its side
A doe spinning itself around in a frantic circle front legs scrambling back legs paralyzed dead. Making a sound again and again this terrible bleat.
Your fathers waiting up,watching tv. Hes angry
Your father walks to the toolshed, comes back lugging a concrete block. Some say things stay with you. Dumping a body deep in the woods, like a gangster.
Dumping the body deep in the woods like a gangster .