Opportunity

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From the ridge

Above the slippery grass of the creek bank,

We stare down at the carcass of the steer.

Late sun warms our backs,

Inks our silhouettes onto the opposite hill

As if we are the string of cut-out people in the frame

Above the sideboard in the ranch house.

 

Like our old black table upended

After a kitchen argument,

The steer, huge and hairy,

Rests on its back,

Wedged against a decaying tree trunk,

Legs as stiff and straight as posts,

Useless to leverage the enormous body.

 

Near the end of the tree trunk,

The head reveals no answers to our sympathetic speculation

Of the steer’s final fall.

Detached and disconnected,

Angled unnaturally,

Neck eaten away to the green grass,

Face mutilated into mixed media art

Swirls of red and grey with teeth and hair.

 

Within the boundaries of the four legs,

Guts and bones lie torn, shredded,

Strewn like a bloody buffet,

Tossed by the coyotes

Who pulled in for a quick meal,

Beckoned by a pair of ribs,

Smooth, clean, and vaulted,

Rising high above the entrails

Like Golden Arches.

Fast food on the high plains.

 

We move on.

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