The Buck
By Steven Withrow
Invisibly brown
As the headlamps seize
On his antlered crown
This phantom wood-woad
Ambles to the verge
Of the brambled road
Dogging his doe
With a heartsick vim
That grips him, though
The car’s glare stuns
His love-glazed eyes
Like doubled suns.
To the driver, time
Has staggered and stalled
In a pantomime
Of startled stag
Raking the slow wind
Once with a jag
Of his heavy rack
And a rime of ice
Down his stiff brown back.
The braking wail
Mimics the mutts
That nipped at his tail
Till, shaking his fears,
Trembles the hedge
And he disappears.
Copyright 2011 Steven Withrow, all rights reserved
5 comments:
Thanks for sharing, Steven! Love the poor fellow's "love-glazed eyes/like doubled suns."
Such a haunting poem...but I loved "wood-ward" - just had to look up woad, and now I will have to find a chance to use it!
Beautiful poem, Steven.
And that illustration -- wow!
I love how you slowed down time and let me look at the scene through the driver's eyes and the buck's eyes before the brakes wailed and the deer turned and ran.
Wow--what a tension-filled poem. Love his doubled sun eyes and the halting rhythm of this!
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