A Huntsman Takes
Lysette Stickney, '24
Good and gone,
The little fawn
Did not run fast enough.
Shot by the gun, which glistened
With rain water.
Smiling, the man who shot her
Grabbed her hastily by the hooves and dragged her
To his red, rusty pickup truck. He was
Not pleased knowing
That her bones were showing
Through her ruddy brown fur. She didn’t
Have much meat to offer up. She couldn’t
Feed his wife and kids
Much. She’d dance behind his eyelids
While he's sleeping at night, haunting him. Shaming him.
He’d wake up with sweat trickling down his back.
A simple baby deer making a grown man cry?
No, just something in his eye,
Which makes his face scrunch up and his nose run, too.
Dinner tastes like greed that night and when the
Kids ask for more,
All sweet and pure,
He tells them there is none left, for if he
Serves them another plate he might choke to death. Why
Did the huntsmen take
If his bones felt like they may break?
A huntsman takes to give but only gives to himself
And his hands, stained with blood, only know how to grab
And pull
And rip until he is full.
Though there is an ache in his heart, and he knows that the
Fawn was good. Innocent. The huntsman still took, and he will continue to take.
