The deer dragged its broken legs behind it
along the freeway. It
hid in the brush,
and I waited with the girl who hit it.
We hoped that maybe, just maybe,
this deer, with wide eyes and fur that looked like living
velvet,
this deer could be saved,
that it could be released back into the wild,
that it could end up in a petting zoo – anything –
to assuage her guilt and my sadness and to will
this deer, this innocent, to live.
Then the police came, and the big blond one said casually,
Yeah, he’s not gonna make it. You girls should just go.
We’re gonna put him out of his misery.
This is the parta my job I can’t talk to my wife about.
And I heard myself say Oh, and felt my chest cave in,
and as I drove home I thought
I can’t save anything.
I can’t save anybody.
I couldn’t save that deer;
I couldn’t save you.
I can’t save anybody.
