poem - the deer There’s a beast crawling near. You can smell the meat of some other meek creature laced in its teeth. It is lovely; it’s muscles taut with anticipation Knowing that joy is once again at it’s claws command It is everything your flesh denies you. In the morning, when it wakes, will it feel shame? or will it just wonder why you did not run And kneeled before that stinking maw like A man before God.
the deer
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