I Saw a Deer
It is common, “natural” to see carcasses on every hometown road. On “America’s Cheapest Family” they showed how to collect & cook it. I remember seeing a dead wolf once. I heard they’re rare now.
Rubber-streaked raccoons and torn fox tails are just as normal as buying baby clothes basking with lead for cheap. It’s hard not to wonder what my own items absorb and leech into me. The answer to chemicals and inhumane working conditions overseas is always, “No, no, outsourcing and machines are better for the economy.”
I often dwell on the scent of gasoline, question if I will remember, asking—how will I feel if my skin crinkles and dots, and someone asks, “Oh, what were gas stations like?” More so, what else soon becomes antique? Cotton cash, checkout-lanes, physical libraries, pollution-free, family farms—
I saw a deer today—a living one for once. It stood on the frontier of road and oak, abyss and time, watching. As its body ran and a truck speeded passed, I prayed silently, let this one remain.
Hannah Grace Greer has just graduated with a B.A. in English and Creative Writing from the University of Iowa in January. She is a disabled writer and poet originally from Pennsylvania and enjoys cooking, baking, and painting in her free time. Her poetry has appeared in Havik, The Ekphrastic Review, Still Point Arts Quarterly, The Fairytale Magazine, and elsewhere. You can find her @hannahggpoetry on Instagram.
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