Erin Jones
KENNETT SQUARE

We had forgotten the dank
mushroom farms,
the deer
carcasses
peppered across route
1
for a full mile. This one’s fur
is patching the highway
like fresh moss, its rib cage
steams
in the median.
This is different than
the hardboiled
bodies of armadillos.
Those
yolks made us queasy,
but this one
is intimate.
In the distance
we can hear
the birds stir
for carrion.
In the distance we
can hear
the other meat, its
fearful hoof clicks,
the blood
still beating.

Erin Jones is an MFA candidate at the University of Florida. Her work has appeared in Subtropics, Boxcar Poetry Review, Natural Bridge, Tar River Poetry, and The Lyric. 

Read more from Cleaver Magazine’s Issue #12.