Great Big Deer Head Poem by John W. McEwers

There's a great big deer head
on your father's wall
and it always had this
terrified look on its face
like your dad just caught it
and taxidermied it alive.

I never understood the Deer Heads
on people's walls. I mean,
it's not like they can fight back,
like they can play dumb and maybe
just maybe the bullet will swerve
just in time
and crash against a telephone pole,
but not even get totaled, the driver
turned back quickly but it
tore off the back bumper and messed
up the rear axle, and at least
the driver wasn't injured, did he ever
even think of that? I mean, I told your dad sorry,
what did he want from me?