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Dressing a Doe

I.

Yesterday he shot
His first doe.
He gutted it
And the blood
Warmed his hands
And absorbed them.

She was small and beautiful
In the church today
And he could have stood
And only watched forever
As she smiled and held
His had without looking.

He did not expect
To be scared, but she
Was small and naked
And he only waited
To feel more
Than the familiar.

She said she was ready.
He knew not to wait.
She said this hurt
And he knew not
To listen only once.
After, he found her hand,
But his was still trimmed in blood.
II.

My wife is in
The house not far
From here reading
The Bible perhaps
Praying for things
I have not considered.
I do not know.

The doe crested
The low hill.
Wind raked my face
As I faced her
White-breathed
And I was content
Only to watch. 

I stood and waited.
I waited for some
Connecting thing to place
Us in the same picture.
We are not the same.
I wanted only to stand
But she did not see me.

I stood and waited.
I raised my bow
An instrument
Of grace
And perfect beauty
My wife does not understand
And I connected.
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