there was a fawn lying beside the highway,
its speckles bright like tiny moons spread
across its soft tan back.
When the impact occurred, it must have been incredible
for the little thing was twisted in half–in the exact middle
of the exact middle, you see?
It’s as if the semi or Dodge or Ford or Chevy
had taken apart its soul, reassembling it,
mocking nature with a cackle of heavy metal.
And the highway we were on, the fawn and I,
was not one that was well-traveled now that the sleek,
black expressway had been laid.
So, I imagine, after the hit, this young deer must have bled
in near silence, late evening’s violet darkness,
listening for the rustling its mother had been making
before she stopped, her heart behind her.