Good Life


As the deer once dashed

To drink from the brook

Our waters whet

For white-tail’s meat;

The steel has sliced

Through skin and through bone

And steel now straps

The stag by its feet

The flesh of the flank

Unfolds like a cape

From hearths of the hart

To haunches of red;

In shrouds of a steam

That swirls in the night

The winter woods

Give warmth of the dead

Through gases gleam

The grooves of the brawn

Like vinyl of violet

And varnish of plaque;

From gambrel to ground

A glistening sight

In the beam of the bulb

That brightens the shack

Through membranes like moons

The metal now carves

Down tendons and tracks

And tongues of soft gore;

So balmy the blood

That bursts from the neck

And splashes in streams

On the sawdusted floor