I remember how every day the kill sharer and I would meet by his deer and bloody our faces together and each bite that made the carcass smaller made the roar of the long death smaller too I would stay close and he would go off somewhere and return matted and hungry his teeth bared as if he had stories he wanted to tell me but couldn’t and his chewing was enough and I treasured the way he blew air out of his nostrils no deer lasts as long as you want it to
