William Stafford’s Carcass
June 28, 2008
June 28, 2008
just ten feet off the Lewis River Trail,
its hindquarters crushed, hipbones missing,
but the ribcage rises full and round
as a pregnant moon. Six strong neckbones
twisted in a savage angle lead to
a broken skull, a speechless jaw.
Months ago, this spot stank of
indecision and regret, but now
the carrion are well fed, the bugs busied,
and the hide slowly returns to earth.
I wish Stafford were here with me
to see that there are no wrong turns,
no accidents, and eventually all roads
lead to this quiet rest in the hills.
I’d wake him and let him know, but
I’m sure he’s already figured it out for himself.
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