Moose River Road
Strange how alone and
ignored they are. Like
mildewed beams in a
scrapyard, somewhere
along the Moose River
Road, the doe’s loins
lay untaken and twisted.
Washed in burgundy,
soaked on the crimson
gravel, her belly still gasping
as we smash into the electrical
softness of distant headlights.
Photo of Moose River Road.
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