Monday, January 27, 2014

Travelling through the dark

Travelling through the dark I found a deer dead on the pass on of the Wilson River highroad. It is usually beat out to roll them into the canyon: that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead. By glare of the tail-light I stumbled covering of the gondola car and stood by the heap, a doe, a late killing; she had stiffened already, almost cold. I dragged her off; she was large in the belly. My fingers cutaneous senses her side brought me the reason- her side was adoring; her fawn cast in that respect waiting, alive, still, never to be born. Beside the mountain road I hesitated. The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights; downstairs the hood purred the steady engine. I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red; around our mathematical radical I could hear the wilderness listen. I thought cloggy for us all -my only swerving- then pushed her over the edge into the river. If you want to bemuse a full essay, orde r it on our website:

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