January 24, 1999
Having sliced
the doe in half,
producing twice the beauty,
we watched only
for a moment as
her suspended body
twirled above the
rusted wheelbarrow
and dripped
cooling blood from
the spigot of her nose
onto her steaming, former parts.
Jutting my spade
into the freezing earth,
I stood breathless as
her organs slid from
the rusty casket and
slapped the shallow grave,
garnished with rocks
and snow.
Never since have I seen
a night so beautiful
and crisp.
-heather baker