Hour Nine “Elk Eyes”

I ripped the elbow of my jacket

on a broken lightbulb

hidden in a bucket

that smelled vaguely of cinnamon.

It was in that carport

down by the bayou,

where the mural of the dying elk,

blood the color of beets,

stares as if pleading with me,

in his death tremor,

to be set free.

 

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