A poem from the POV of the deer. I really love how this turned out. <3 Literally, just finished this. Fresh off the presses. :) Please view on desktop for correct line breaks. Thank you. XO, C.A.
From the Deer
Oh, Hello. I see you. Skinny with not much hair at all. I am sorry
you only have two legs, but it is OK with me.
I do not have anywhere to go.
Some moons back, I had more hiding places. Now, everything
is confusing.
When you blink, I am ready to run away, but your teeth
are not too sharp.
For now, I will stay with baby, keeping track, looking sideways
nine times better than you, but nothing like
owls.
And this green is good in my mouth;
it goes down smooth.
But no wet falling. The sun
is mad all the time, I guess. I have a lot on my mind,
and the dry confuses me and my throat. Everything
is yellow and hot, which hurts my nose,
for one.
Colder soon.
The squirrels search for sticks. I am laughing
at them, and my tail is going wild. Then I get too hungry
and swallow a stone
and some funny flowers
which hurt my insides.
Maybe I will take baby to where they leave
corn. But that is too close to the animals like you.
They smell funny and walk around, holding snakes
that spit water at the ground. Green and black.
Some yell scary like coyotes.
Some coo coo like doves.
Others are quiet like butterflies.
It makes no sense why they hold water snakes,
because we all know the wet comes from
above. That is normal.
Oh, Hello. I still see
you. These little trees are sleeping all the time,
but every now and then they whisper
they are happy we are here.
Trees are nice.
Between the old, tall ones,
two of the boys fight each other for fun.
All the girls
laugh really hard enough to shake the ears,
except me,
because my hair is already starting to fall out,
which is early and makes me embarrassed and so,
I am quiet.
Our leader
is not far away. I know because he paws pebbles.
I hear his heavy handsome.
Because of his head, I am nervous
he could kill someone, but he never does.
He tells funny stories at night. Leaders do that – talk
until we are sleepy. They make us laugh and shut
our eyes. Then they jump up and act like they are going to kill
someone, even if they never do.
Sometimes they do
but then, the whole forest swallows them up, for one.
I still
see you, but I am staying here. I am so nervous to cross
the gray and yellow ground
that hurts my feet,
where the animals screech and move real fast, all
different shapes and sizes,
but so loud and stinky
with smoke and strange growling,
and they have eyes brighter than the sun,
and it makes all of us stare back,
and when we do, we forget to move,
and those bad ones hit us hard
and there is no turning back into life.
We all know not to look into the light but some days,
it takes one or two
by surprise,
which means the breath is gone.
I do not know where their sounds go,
but they are not here -- all stiff and cannot remember how to talk.
Then the birds circle down.
They have ripped wings and red faces,
and I am sad for them,
because they all want to be prettier.
There is nothing I can do about that.
I have a lot on my mind.
I cannot talk to you much more.
And I am thirsty, and I need to ask the turtles.
When I head for a drink,
I have to watch out. Sometimes, sharp sticks come flying
and other days, animals that walk around like you
wear green and brown,
but I can still see them,
nine times better,
and they have black, shiny things that bang, bang
like thunder and smell like fire and then,
you or somebody else is already
gone.
It is amazing to live today
with all of the bang like thunder,
the dry,
the yellow,
the sharp sticks,
and the lights,
and the screeching and strange growling,
and the fire and getting swallowed,
and all of the scary things.
It is OK with me that you only have two legs.
Skinny with not much hair at all,
but there must be a reason.
I guess I have never seen a shark, but the catfish
in the river told me all about them.
And so I believe in you, too.
Hello, I still
see you. Now I look to tell you that the trees
and I are happy you are here.
I have a lot on my mind, but I guess now
you are part of this hiding place.
I hear your heavy handsome.
I see opossum.
He knows everybody, and he tells me the time.
The moon will be here in a moment.
So, I only have a few minutes with you.
I still
see you.
My eyes are nine times better, but nothing
like owls.
Maybe you forgot.
I do not have anywhere to go.
I am worried about my job which is loving everybody.
Trees are nice.
C.A. MacConnell
