Church III by Paul Luikart
Buck Moon by Heather Myers
My father shoots a deer.
Blood drips from her nose.
From the house, I look out the dark-swallowed
window, cup my small hands against the cold glass,
peer into the shed’s florescent flicker, see
her body bare on the hook, marble
tendons and flesh. I can smell the moon.
Her light penetrates like arrows.
Fallen fur sticks to the concrete.
Blood eats away the ground.
I drip like the doe, but my father never left red.
Not even when his fist smashed against the wall,
left a scar on it. I run my fingers across its white-plaster
wound. It ripples and foams over decades.
Heather Myers is from Altoona, Pennsylvania, where she received a BA in English at Penn State Altoona. She is currently pursuing an MFA at West Virginia University. You can find her on twitter at @isitthesea.
Paul Luikart is an artist and writer living in Chattanooga, Tennessee. In addition to writing and drawing, he directs a shelter for homeless families.
