Hard Only Unfolding

Heavy rains and graupel scrubbed
Blood spilled from the roadkill doe,
Fur now matted and sodden,

Body dragged to the gravel
Shoulder for the scavengers.
Doesn’t look like carnage now,

More like garbage, a dark lump
Dropped from someone’s pickup truck.
No one passing will be forced

Into swerving anymore.
If you happen to drive through
This turn in the road often,

You’ll get to watch it unfold,
Meal by meal by meal, to bone.