I wish I'd been the one to hit it,
then I'd be carrying the guilt,
(I am anyways)
the jackass who rammed his front bumper up into the animal's ribcage
gets off skotch free,
he was probably drunk, heading home from a dinner party
where they pontificated to each other the superiority of the human race.
so after driving home he and his wife climb into a warm bed,
meanwhile our deer staggers and his organs,
the ones that used to keep him alive,
tumble out onto the road,
to be run over the next morning by a thousand tires.
and what's left of him collapses in a ditch
a few feet away from a cemetary,
and it's laughing at him,
a whole bunch of dead humans,
resting quietly in their coffins and their urns,
like our driver in his bed,
and no one's going to disturb them,
no one's going to drive over their intestines
or slow down to look for a few seconds,
just a few before they speed towards whatever it is that's always more important.