The Exhaustion of the Hunt

Cherry

By onemorething

Sat, 09 May 2020
  • 3224 reads
14 comments
 

I saw the red deer leap,

their lean livers convulsed with shyness,

which I understood - 

I had read a story once about a stag

that dragged a drowning man

from the river, the water rainbowed

his coat, unveiled in the sunlight,

only to spur on a rich man's desires,

and I, forewarned 

of the heightened danger

in any exposure of vulnerability.

 

Years ago, when I had lost all will,

a fallow deer watched me,

half hidden in long grass,

and I held on. 

I have seen them in photographs too,

of cave paintings, almost ungainly

with an exaggeration of mossy antlers,

how they must have panted,

tongues lolled, hide itched with sweat

in the exhaustion of the hunt;

the surge of adrenaline 

as it wanes to fatigue. 
 

The blench of past pain hums

its verbs in your bones,

you do not recover from it,

you do not stop flinching:

hooves fixed to earth to sense

its throbbing in nouns of soil and root,

the spread of fungus reached out

as a wide map of nerves

all muttering their dark grammar.

Here, I search for redactions

and misunderstand everything,

but in the honesty of misinterpretation,

I find myself.
 

Image from wikimedia commons: 

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Colonel_Smith_Grasping_the_Hind_Legs_of_a_Stag.jpg

Certificate PG
Poem
Unclassified

Comments

Submitted by littleditty on

I love your deer poem. Super!

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thanks! Happy you enjoyed it and let me know. Hope you're having a lovely Saturday in the sun, I'm just off to examine the cygnets. Rachel :)

Thanks too to the cherry fairy.

 

Submitted by littleditty on

exciting business - enjoy!

 

Submitted by sean mcnulty on

Another wonderful piece.

'The blench of past pain hums its verbs in your bones.'
Lines like that remind me why I have a liking for words.

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thanks Sean, that's very kind. Good to know that you liked it. Blench is a perfect word for its meaning, I think, shame that it isn't used more regularly. Quite Dickensian. :)

 

Submitted by drew_gummerson on

Loved it too. And I like the word 'blench'. I didn't know it before. I don't think. 

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thanks Drew. Am glad. A variant of blanch. But I like blench in the sense of flinching. :)

 

Submitted by drew_gummerson on

I prefer blench. This poem made me think of the film The Killing of the Sacred Deer which in turn made me think of The Lobster. Which I've now just bought. To watch again. 

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Oh. I haven't seen either and having looked them up, now want to see both. Reading about The Lobster has also made me wonder what creature I'd choose to turn into...lots of things are tempting, but don't live very long so perhaps one of those Greenland sharks that lives for hundreds of years. Not very nice looking though, but I suppose you wouldn't be after several hundred years. What would you choose? 

 

Submitted by drew_gummerson on

Both films are bonkers and brilliant. 
 

If allowed, I'd be a blue whale. Because you'd get to see things you'd never otherwise see...

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

I too enjoyed your poem Rachel.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by onemorething on

That's good to know, Jenny. Am glad, as it's a little dark. Thanks for reading it. :)

 

Submitted by luigi_pagano on

Yet another poem that shows your knowledge and love of words, Rachel. The topic reminded me of the melodious cavatina in the film The Deer Hunter. 

Luigi x

 

Submitted by onemorething on

Thanks Luigi, I couldn't recall the cavatina, but recognised it straight away. Very beautiful. I haven't watched Deer Hunter for many years! I will have to add that as a third film on my list to watch. It's a good job that I have plenty of time on my hands indoors at the moment. Unless we are all released into the wild this evening by BJ, but I think it's unlikely. Thanks for reading. Rachel x