Guts

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A bold, doe-crazed, bounding buck
came toward a fence fanged with barbed wire,
but instead of going around, he tried his luck
by leaping over what divided him from desire.

He caught himself on the coiled thorns of steel,
tearing himself open so that his guts unspooled and fell
to festoon the fence line to thereby reveal
his viscera unveiled from its ragged pell.

The does gazed at him briefly, then looked away,
grazing on grass as they had before—
although he had proven to them his guts that day
he had not proven him possessed of anything more.

Roadkill On The Wayside Of Mt. Moriah

The buck lay in the flooded ditch line,
his guts ruptured like the haggard hull
of a ship that had, by storm, struck a mine
and capsized, now half-sunken in the lull.
His ribs were splintered timbers splayed
while the dark water lay flat and dead,
stagnant as the stench his body made
while maggots grew like barnacles abed.
And lording over these spoils of war
like a carrion pirate over stolen treasure,
a opossum clambered up from the grassy shore
and ate to surfeit of flotsam pleasure.