Kyle Singh

A New Fawn
 
In its first year, it was laid to rest
The earth blessed it with its final ritual
 
Rights granted by the angels of the underground--
millipede, woodlice, fungi, all ready to greet her
to return her into dust borrowed from the sky,
a trail of light, and the arched valley of water.
 
On her spots still filled with heat were patterns of shadow--
The mystery of loss
 
I walked to her to place one hand on her mane
Where the foxes had laid their prey around her
My other hand on the fallen trunk of an oak
That took some 400 years to fall
I felt the pulse on my hand still alive
 
Small white flowers rose tall in the grove ahead--
A new fawn
 
In its first year, it was lifted from slumber
The earth blessed it with its final ritual
 


Kyle Singh is a graduate student at Dartmouth College studying creative writing. He is a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania and currently resides in Hanover, New Hampshire.