The Hunter

I ate the leg of a deer.
The graceful deer-leg that leapt
holly bushes and trout-filled streams.
I downed it with a mug of beer.

I dropped his heart into a sack
and stacked his bones beside the curb.
Pick-up days are on Wednesday.
I used his antlers as a rack.

I chopped up his liver in a flash
and scattered the useless hooves,
ears and tail along the ground, but
I hid his eyes, those eyes, in the trash.

Dan Campbell

If you've any comments on this poem, Dan Campbell would be pleased to hear from you.