Read more poems by Jared Carter: Jared Carter Poems at Poetry X.
After we called the sheriff, they came and hauled it away. But there was one interviewer who stayed behind, to ask if we'd seen any strange lights in the sky at night, or burnt places in the pasture, or flocks of hippies traveling through in their painted vans. Nothing, we told him. Only that pair of buzzards floating over the north fork but never landing. No signs, no tracks. Only the shaggy lump of the steer, with its tongue gone, ears cut off, and eyes—cored out clean, like apples. Nothing, no blood on the ground, and no flies crawling anywhere. "Natural predator," he said, closing his book. "That's how we'll write it up. Now, I know what you're thinking: no bear, no mountain lion, no coyotes in these parts for a hundred years. And none of them make cuts like that or leave that much good meat behind. But something's coming back. Natural predator," he said again. He tipped his hat. "You folks take care now."
Added: 20 May 2003 | Last Read: 23 Apr 2017 11:26 PM | Viewed: 6173 times
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