Deer Hunter by Tricia Marcella Cimera

Once I loved you, deer hunter.
You moved through trees
wearing dark brown & green,
marksman unseen.
You mounted deer heads filled
with dead dreams on the walls
of your house.
Great virile hunters & white
wonder stags ran through my
empty maiden’s head.
Blinded by mythos,
I had no instincts or sense;
you never had to pursue.
I chased you, tore my heart
out, bloody-fisted.
In your house on the hill,
you moved over my skin
like a cool surgical knife.
I didn’t see danger until
you delivered the kill
shot words.  Get out.
The deer heads stared
down at my stunned face.
Your camouflage,
we all agreed, worked —
very well.

Tricia Marcella Cimera 032316

Tricia Marcella Cimera is an obsessed reader and lover of words. Look for her work in many diverse places including: the Buddhist Poetry Review, Hedgerow, I Am Not A Silent Poet, Mad Swirl, and Silver Birch Press. Tricia believes there’s no place like her own backyard and has traveled the world (including Graceland). She lives with her husband and family of animals in Illinois/in a town called St. Charles/by a river named Fox.


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