The velvet-antlered fawn
Gasps with burning lungs,
White-hot like the sun at dawn,

As its end has just begun.
It has a limited number of hours left awake,
It was doomed from the start,
A city built, intending for an earthquake.

Its heart had bled, as all hearts do,
But this one was bleeding out something new.

And, so, I hold the velvet-antlered fawn,
Hold it close to my chest.
I’ll whisper lullabies to it, ‘til it’s gone,
And I’ll let the melody do the rest.

“You may die in a world that hates you,”
I murmur with bowed head,
“But you will die in my arms, in a slew
Of love, and care, and warmer days,
Of soft kisses and worn-out ways,
Of gentle crowns and gentler kings,
As, in dirt, you’re renamed as everything.”

“Your mother will not find you here,
Nor will the rest of the herd.
I’m sorry, my sun-dappled, freckled deer,
In death, I wish you heard.”

The velvet-antlered fawn
Dies in my arms,
Softness in its eyes and guilt in my heart.

I granted the child a gentle death,
I ensured it a calm final breath,
But in death’s wake, my breaths shake,
Because I couldn’t hit the brakes.
And I let the fawn face the headlights.
And there’s no world where that is right.