matted down fur.
short, coarse, brushes my lips
it’s head slumps in my lap
heavy, hanging limp
neck dark with its own blood
I am latched on like a tick,
sucking, draining.
the body lies limp, fur down
in the dirt
it’s only a deer,
but it’s blood runs thick,
enough for a full meal

when I detach, wipe
the blood onto my sleeve,
brush the fur off my cheeks-
sticking to sweat,
from the heat of the hunt,
the climax of swallowing down
leaving the body drained,
and sallow, from licking my lips
and the taste of warm iron
lighting up my tongue, and from
building my empire on stacks
of dead bodies, all together,
piled here.