Mes os, mes os à moi.
La voiture a fait des tonneaux,
Mon passager sans visage ne répond pas.
I’m dragging myself across the asphalt, burning myself as I scrape along.
There’s no fire yet,
But the alarm keeps blaring on a loop.
On the side of the road, he saw the whole scene.
Evil, evil Stag,
Walking like a man, lurking behind trees,
Doesn’t approach as long as you look at him,
Close your eyes and he’ll come running.
I can't help but blink, this is just all too tiring,
So he approaches step by step on his two hind legs.
A stranger’s pickup truck is my deliverance.
The headlights flood the road,
The shadows lengthen and disappear.
The Stag returns to his lair, far from the living,
dragged back into the woods by an invisible, violent hand.
-
Author:
noahguernot (
Offline) - Published: August 21st, 2026 15:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- In collections: La Cabane du Chasseur, The Hunter's Cabin.
Offline)
Comments1
Here the poem turns from real to surreal in a two legged stag. An accident from a deer in the road I could well understand but it becomes supernatural with the advent of the stag and the evil that pulls it back into the shadows. Well written
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