Fallen

Hard by mournful scraps of cloud 
that loft along the inky edge of night 
follow the green-twist leafy fall   
down to the sight of the least deer
of all that mythy cloven kind 
to pierce an unsuspecting heart,
that lies here unmarked and staring
from the wet round eye of his last testament.

I think an insult of proliferation 
brought him to his tidy little knees, 
or else he dropped unblemished, 
and quite rigid in his run 
from some ancient frieze that circles us
for fun but stopped 
to let him off, unfinished

in full stride to hit this mulchy earth
in neck-twisting panic to taste
a few deep gulps sweetly - 
the dark and dewy mirth
of our earthly garden - 
spurting peace, and peril too  
in the short and bloody countdown from his birth 

hail to the brief hot sun-streaks searing 
one by one their speckle through the great nave
as he ran burning 
to silver-flashing icy creeks
one last briefer sip to save, 
from the last howl heard

through hot beats of a bursting pulse, 
and foreleg raised but no way out, 
I see he finally gently lay 
and let the moon into his mouth.