Roe Buck Poem by Richard J.P. O'Grady

When two Roe deer
form a pair, I wonder
if each thinks
the other, say more
handsome, more beautiful
than any other?

Who would think
such limpid, liquid eyes
and dark 'Hosta' ears
could hide such passion,
such fire? Many have made
that mistake, some have died.

If a buck - too tame
to know better - advances 'playfully',
delicately prancing, sculpted
head carrying antlers - mere
'tie-racks compared to cousins
in the Glen - Watch out!

Such horns,
initial scorn evaporated,
change into weapons,
to be wrestled - at first
as if in fun - soon
to be held at bay.

Unwilling to cry for help
for fear of feeling foolish,
'Bambi, can't seriously hurt me! '
But 'Bambi' in earnest,
no game playing today.

A sudden jerk, a twist
and 'Buck' breaks free,
to plunge,
dagger darts deep
into the nearest object
- my stomach.

Warm, russet, liquid, oozing
between fingers, staining
pale shirt crimson, no
feeling of pain, but
'Why will this ogre,
not stop and back off? '

Butting, tummelling,
as if in a scrum,
pushing, shoving, grunting, grinding,
musk-like odour congealing
with blood - my blood!
Tables turned - for once!