Published January 15th, 2025
by Brynn Mattsen
A long-haired summer cat
A jangled Christmas deer
That left itself over the car
And the road and the road
And another car,
God up in His castle marking
My vision with red X's until
I have no choice but to pray to Him
And I'm always free on Sunday mornings so
I don't notice all signs pointing to Him until
A doe turns pleading eyes to me while
The road dresses in fur and red and metal and plastic
And black (It's always night for these things) so
I give in to red and black and collision
And the noise and the noise and
I practice funereal rites for animals
Which were unnamed to me,
And I dig a third grave, just to be safe,
Just because I have faith I'll need it,
And anytime I hear some creature cry
Or begin to run, or begin to slow,
Now I close my eyes, feel God tugging my leash,
I cannot survive the witnessing.
So I am grateful to know my prayers were heard
When my family fills the third grave with our grey-eyed dog
Who died in our living room while I was away.
About the Poet
Brynn Mattsen resides in Parkville, Maryland, United States.
Read the poet's biography on Brynn Mattsen's Artist Page.
This poem is also featured in Comet #4,
published in the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
Previously published in Axil Poetry and Art:
Mountain Tears
by Su Yun
Axil Poetry and Art is part of the Wax Poetry and Art Network.
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