Jimmy
New Member
Posts: 44 
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The Doe
Jan 25, 2019 21:46:15 GMT -5
Post by Jimmy on Jan 25, 2019 21:46:15 GMT -5
The Doe
Driving the curvy road to work
and town, my headlights twinkled
the rock wall cliff that lines our way
and hit a doe. It blocked my lane:
no way past. I’ve stopped before
to let them step across, seen them
hit but not like this: body squashed,
legs under, sprawled and yet she held
her head upright. Twenty feet back I
gaped at her open, living eyes, not
my kill. Didn’t know what I could offer
but went. Four-ways flashed. Morning
mist sponged my suit. I dropped
in berm gravels and knelt that moment
like in a cathedral, facing her, eye
to eye. Wet nostrils steamed what
desperation they could. Sockets a few
times twitched. I peered hard,
acknowledging her stare as commuters
slowed and zoomed, did what only
humans do, about to part: leaned forward,
shoulder to throat and clenched until all
was still. Almond hair matted my damp
lapels and police boots pounded in.
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linm
Junior Member
Posts: 92 
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The Doe
Jan 27, 2019 11:47:22 GMT -5
Post by linm on Jan 27, 2019 11:47:22 GMT -5
Dear Jimmy,
This poem really packs a wallop--especially since the events are a bit ambiguous and only on a second reading did I get that the deer was not dead. I'm sure this was traumatic for you-- and the indirections in the description really convey this sense of a shocking, dreaded event. Saying"my headlights ... hit a doe," subtly conveyed the accident. On first read, I took "Living eyes" to mean, "lifelike," and the exhalations and twitching seemed like post-mortem changes. But then on further readings I saw they were literal, which "whiplashed" me. "Four ways flashed" was the one point where I could't figure out a referent. It seemed like a crowd or chaos of lights, but the police don't arrive until the end.
"Morning /mist sponged my suit" is a great image. Then you use a detail of the final action to convey what you do--I think this heightens the horror of it, the bravery of it. The almond hair is also great detail. I have had a couple of close calls with deer, in one case recently where we were going slow and the deer klonked the side rear, leaving a clump of hair in a seam, the only sign it had happened; the hair on your suit coat is memorable and conveys that the event left its mark on you. "Police boots pounded in" winds it up frighteningly, the official powers coming in, making a judgment, where of course you the driver are innocent but feel terrible, possibly even guilty, about it. A really great ending I think.
(One small grammar thing that tripped me up:"Twenty feet back I /gaped" = misplaced modifier.
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The Doe
Jan 27, 2019 17:29:15 GMT -5
Post by betsey on Jan 27, 2019 17:29:15 GMT -5
agree with this poem's power, Jimmy.. You hit your stride from "I dropped in berm gravel" to the end. Great.
The first half is not clear. I know the doe is hit and alive, but did your headlights or your car hit her?
Maybe some tighter language possible: Lane blocked. No way past. Begin On the curvy road??
Before, I've stopped...These lines take me out of the action.
Truly beautiful exchange with the doe. Mary Oliver-ish. Well done.
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The Doe
Jan 27, 2019 20:14:50 GMT -5
Post by bluebird on Jan 27, 2019 20:14:50 GMT -5
Jimmy, this is a wonderful intensely captured moment. And one that is so specific to YOU
as a single individual.
I've often wondered what I would do if I hit an animal. Your writing about that kind of moment...
of your bonding with the doe's as simply LIFE and the decision to end her suffering with a choke hold really
shook me up because I don't know WHAT I would do in a similar situation.
I really love this poem. I live where deer cross our back road on a regular basis. Fox too.
I am always on alert and could not bear to hit one. Yet I think about what I would do.
Your description of that and your bonding with the animal was so beautiful and clear and powerful.
Most of all I felt that you shared a personal individual moment.
Bravo!
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The Doe
Jan 30, 2019 20:59:00 GMT -5
Post by Gerry on Jan 30, 2019 20:59:00 GMT -5
Jimmy, I think this poem has its discovery, its closure pretty set. My revisions, therefore, are a bit microcosmic as opposed to macroscopic.
Do we need "driving"?
A quick revision strategy for this poem (and for all poems) might be to put it in present tense. It will give the poem a sense of immediacy that might make it even more effective.
Are you convinced this is the right line length? Think a touch shorter...
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The Doe
Jan 31, 2019 15:24:17 GMT -5
Post by lildawnrae on Jan 31, 2019 15:24:17 GMT -5
Jimmy, the power and sadness of this lyrical narrative blew me away. You're eye to eye with the doe, and eye to eye with the reader as well. Beautiful!
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