High-noon on the highway into town, red spray from the point of impact and entrails in a bloody ooze.  A yellow line kill left over from the dawn.  And off the white line on gravel, a sibling deer highlighted by the blood: slumbering in death without trauma.

Still, in the cold light of day, did the steel monster get ’em both in one bite?  Or did it come back for more?  Maybe one fawn missed the other.

This morning, mother deer made it, but her children didn’t.  Their spots barely gone, they stepped on a strip where they couldn’t hide.  Mother ran faster, or at least knew where to run.  All those years with men, I guess.


first published in Living With a Stranger: self portrait, 1993.

About johnsmithiiimxiii

John Smith, IIMXIII is the avatar of an award winning poet, artist, etc. who still lives in the Palouse country of the Pacific NW. He has not received much notice with his prose . . . but as his avatar, I hope that he keeps plugging along.

2 responses to “Fawn-kill”

  1. bpsenapati says :

    Sad story, still love your writing

    Liked by 1 person

  2. johnsmithiiimxiii says :

    Thank-you. It was sad to see. Some days the world is strangely bitter/sweet.

    Liked by 1 person

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