We both stared when the buck fell on its face,
You told me that you were hungry,
That was all you felt it was safe to feel,
So we left the body before it could become
A corpse and a feast for the winter winds,
It would make the street into a path
For a little wild sustenance, our donation,
We told each other we gave it up
To the woods as a gift to quickly devour,
The platitudes worked well enough,
Except when we got lost between glens,
And through distant snapping felt
Hunters were following us for a meal too.
Ben Nardolilli is a twenty-five-year-old writer currently living in Arlington, Virginia. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, One Ghana One Voice, Caper Literary Journal, Quail Bell Magazine, elimae, Super Arrow, Grey Sparrow Journal, A Hudson View, The Toucan, Contemporary American Voices, Eudaimonia Poetry Review, Rabbit Catastrophe Review, Gloom Cupboard, and Beltway Poetry Quarterly. In addition he maintains a blog at htt://mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is looking to publish his first novel.
