I don't understand why they hang
their harvest across their hoods,
why the points have corkscrewed
leaving without shavings of wood.
I'll savor the game through teeth
where the meat remarries blood,
but don't care to take that spirit
away from the beast's livelihood.
And perhaps in my primitive air
deep down I know that I could--
but whether I take the kill shot
I'm pretty sure I should not--
unless it's kill or leave-to-rot.
I will take all in sloppy seconds.
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