Deer at Dusk, Highway Side, Mountain Pass
Cling to that slope / of rock like winter / is over early
and the freshest grass / to be found is / highway side
cleared by plow / fertilized / with gravel and / trash
in patches / grazing / the shoulder. Ignore those blind
lights / that iron-rumbling / whoosh / forget coal / gas
and steam / or dynamite blasting / this mountain into
s-curve / scars while you crush / succulent yellow stalks
with your teeth. We / humans are also frantic / wild
hungry for the new / and our efforts to be cutting / edge
early adopters / bring us down / from high ground / so
close to the unknown / vulnerable / in the headlights of
technological / Anthropocene extinction / one bound from
death by speed.
Isaac James Richards is an aspiring poet, current graduate student, and first-year
writing instructor who has lived in Idaho, India, and Israel/Palestine. To date, he has
won a handful of obscure poetry contest awards and published exactly three poems,
most recently in Constellations: A Journal of Poetry and Fiction. When he is not writing
or teaching writing, he enjoys practicing Buddhist meditation. He can be reached via
his website: https://www.isaacrichards.com/