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Charlene Proctor , i Dadfire i John Henning , i Trennis Killian , i Shannon MacLeod , i Sam Vaknin , i Charles Keller , i Laura Cavanaugh , i RickthePoetWarrior i Lisa DAnnolfo Levey , i
A poem about a medieval hunting ritual - 'the unmaking of the deer'.
Hart of ten
just worthy of the hunt,
we tracked
and chased
until you were at bay.
Your antlers
a tangle of thorns;
traceries of hidden signs
to be divined.
Your pulsing heart
Unbreakable,
Its ossified core
a talisman
no terror could undo.
Until the best of us
drove home the spear,
and broke the bone.
We sang to you
as you were unmade,
his steel dancing
in your darkening blood.
Your velvet hide
unstitched.
Tendons' anchors
unhitched.
Your body rent;
each took his part -
even the lymer her scrap of you.
When we had done
your pelvis still remained -
bloody in the lushness.
The ritual run -
the song being sung -
we left you -
a bent and blade-scored 'O' -
an offering
to crows.
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