The Near Dead Deer

Blood gushes from the near dead deer,
The fury of her marrow spilt.
Poor dear…
I see in your eyes
the pain and the fear
as you’re lying there, still.
Beneath her breastbone, a gentle throb growing fainter.

Split the world!
Blood burns crevices as rivers flush through,
rinsing away traces.
And innocents float freely to blue skies
catching glimpses of red they left behind.

Enraged ghosts howl out of the ground,
whirling and whining,
avenging deer blood.

April 7, 1983, Poem by D Pomeroy in another life
Art by D Pomeroy 2010

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