there haiku

where did you come from?
wherever it is, I think
I’d like to go there.

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Deer, 44 Days Later

Two mangy legs
are all that remain,
chopsticks

sticking up
from a bowl
of white ribs

licked clean
and on the rump,
a round opening,

red, kaleidoscopic
so that the passerby
might see right

through when
she squints
into the sun

and though
embarrassed
(even as she writes),

may linger for
more than
a minute,

less than ten,
to scrutinize
the hole, the hair

the flies.