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More poems by William StaffordWilliam Stafford | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments (5) | Books by William StaffordBooks by William Stafford

Traveling Through The Dark

William Stafford

Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.

By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.

My fingers touching her side brought me the reason--
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.

The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.

I thought hard for us all--my only swerving--,
then pushed her over the edge into the river.

Added: 3 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 22 Jul 2018 10:49 AM | Viewed: 20990 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/1088/ | Viewed on 22 July 2018.
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