by Daniel Wilcox
Zoning through the silent darkness
Up highway 101
In the misty fog of holy day night--
Thunk!
A brown-doe-jumped impact,
Four-hoofed collision
On my hood to the left and over,
So I jerk my Sienna to the right
Shaken by the unexpected encounter,
Wondering whether I dare pull
To the far-side shoulder,
Worried for the helpless deer
But cognizant too of traffic on my tail,
The all too humans ever arear.
Speak of the common place,
The normal and often,
The accidental roadkill cliché
Of carcassed any death flesh,
But still visioning her broken body
A vivid image like a sacred ornament
Out in front of our endless road rage
For our human—no accidental--
Slaughter of innocent bystanders
In the unspeakable millions,
(Speak of the devil!)
Always for God and Country
And oh so good and kin
Of human blood and bone,
'Injust' another and another corpse
To heave onto the refuse
Re-hearsed wagon of centuries,
Every physical's eventual fate
On CNN at six before seven;
Incomplete numbers of
The premature endless burials
Far from Heaven;
Please yell against
This other place.
Daniel Wilcox earned his B.A. in Creative Writing from Cal State University, Long Beach. He is a 'see' rover--former activist, teacher, and wanderer--from Montana to the Middle East, leaving a vapor trail of poetic debris. His writing has appeared in various journals including The Centrifugal Eye, The Recusant, The November 3rd Club, Tipton Poetry Journal and Erbacce. A short story based on his time in the Middle East was published in the September 2007 issue of The Danforth Review. Currently, Daniel is working on a novel and a poetry collection. He lives on the central coast of California with his mysterious wife and youngest son.
______________________________________________________