Stephen Cushman

peace and quiet

no escape
even in woods
rubs and scrapes
of bucks in rut
saplings snapped
and stubs all smeared
in eye-gland musk
followed by frantic
dot dot dot
down wet-leaved trail
those patches his rack
rips clean to dirt
gouged by tines
the fevered ellipses
defining a line
so does distressed
by urgent estrus
can hunt him at dusk

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