Eyes of deer in the dark
where they have come out
on the moonlit pasture,
venturing out just a little farther
than they and I are used to.
A 12-point buck and his lady
companions, as euphemistic
and relationship-defining
as my Uncle Claudius’s
carrying on in stonewalled
Elsinore, where the floors
were covered by deerskins
while candles lit not softly
as he engaged with is ladies
on moonless nights, no
music of the wind or frogs,
just bellowing Claudius, Ribbit.
For more on Ulf Kirchdorfer, please see our Authors page.
Amarillo Bay 