Three Poems

 By

 Christina Pacosz

What Is Illuminated

The moon is an egg

in the mouth of the day.

A final offering.

We are reluctant to name

what eats away the hours:

Time and all its ignominy.

A pair of deer spooked by the intersection

of our lives and theirs - a door

opening, dogs barking -

run pell-mell  across the field,

then the two-lane road,

long legs extended

like racehorses

at the finish line.

Dead Deer in a Ditch

One of the young ones

I saw running only a few days ago

across the two-lane

lying down 

as if death

were an easy fit.

Deer in the Dark

Between Halloween

and Dia de los Muerte

the light is gone

early

                 Only the telltale crackle

                 of fallen leaves

Followed by a flash

of white

surrender’s

ghostly flag

in the sumac

Deer

moving away

from us