Road Kill
It Was Saturday Morning
It was Saturday morning,
the end of September, and I
Had my hands on the wheel and my mind
on the words that I felt
Coming at me: coyote
and carrion crows. And the sky
After sunrise had shone its great light
on the blood and the pelt
Of some creature who'd met with some car
on that long stretch of road.
The coyote inspecting, bewildered,
looked over at me
As I made my approach as a human
transmitting my code
And attempting to fathom the scene
and assess could it be ...
Were the bones and the fur
and the blood that was spilled
The remains of a second coyote?
The blood was so vast
On that road where this creature
was run down — I wondered who'd killed
It, what human with what
kind of shadowy future and past
Zeroed in, a trajectory, savagery,
metal and bone
And the way of the world
when you drive through it lost and alone.
🙃🙃🙃🤗🤗🤗😘😘😘😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰
Wow this poem makes me feel alone, afraid, and anticipatory all at the same time.