Sonnet Sunday 22: The Deer

 

Photo credit: James Thompson

One of the unfortunate reputations I have is chronic car troubles. Towards the end of its life, my Alero had frequent breakdowns to the point that it was used by several people as an illustration of the sunk cost fallacy; believe it or not, the Sunfire I had prior to the Alero was even worse. This led to me buying a Subaru, which is significantly better in the snow, but has had its share of mishaps.

Most recently, in mid-June, I hit my second deer.

Which leads me to today’s sonnet. Last November, one of the prompts in a poem-a-day challenge was an animal prompt. I honestly don’t know why I chose to take it in this direction. Probably obstinance on my part to take a harmless-sounding challenge in a nice morbid direction.

At any rate, I present its publication today in honor of the suicidal deer from a few months ago.*

The Deer

Written 11/2/2016

In search of food, in search of water cool,
In search of berries sweet and salt sublime,
I leap across a stream, concrete and cruel.
A metal beast comes roaring down the line.
With flashing eyes, and shrieking loud with wrath,
It knocks me down. Its teeth tear at my flank.
Its viscous drool blends with my blood. Its breath
Is hot against my fur, matted and dank.
It pauses now, before a final bite.
I cannot flee. I cannot even rise
Although I strive to stand with all my might.
I watch for coming fate with dark’ning eyes.
Why does it not just move in for the kill?
With this last thought, I shudder and lie still.

 

*Fun fact: This was originally scheduled to be the fourth sonnet, and then the 12th, and then the 20th. Silly current events, continuing to delay it.

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