I-95
the deer is sleeping
(let me just be vague,
I am flooded with road).
white rump.
it is probably sleeping.
(let me not know,
let me float in sticky pools
of black reflecting tarmac
where attention undulates and beats
against the heat-haze rising
gasoline-like from the freeway).
white rump.
the deer is only sleeping,
possibly it is sleeping.
foreshortened car ahead,
receding blacktop mirror image
squat between the wheels.
the deer...
just once let certainty
evade me, let consequences
and connections be elsewhere,
let me be perfectly
stupid, empty, blameless
it was not me who carved
this pitiless freeway
nor the one it leads to
nor the one it led from
this is not my destination
(white rump, boxlike body
head bent back, stomach distended
broken legs askew)
drive on
(it is sleeping)
let us just drive quickly on.
Copyright © Mark Everett 2000. Used with permission. | 
