I found her on her side
in the mucky pond behind the house,
bedded in rigor, head submerged
but flanks exposed, covered in flies.
White tail. Little peninsula.
Nights ago, I startled you with my headlights
as you leapt into the tall grasses,
and each day since I waited for your return.
You made my heart skip.
Maybe you dipped to drink
along the low bank, settled in the cool water
to relieve some pain, some wound unseen.
What loneliness drove you
under the low-hanging trees
and knotted roots along the bank?
Who will miss you?
When the men hauled you
onto shore, the dragonflies swooped
and swirled the sickening heat,
in the space your body had been.
The noonday sun is brutal;
the pond reflects everything.
