Thursday, January 9, 2025

The Wounded Deer (Frida Kahlo) Sonnet #628

















No, it’s the beginning that is beyond

And the ending is already here.

No idea nestles inside a sound

Like a resting invisible deer.

(Surprised, she’ll try to outrun your car

As if she knows just who you are.

She is not afraid or even shy,

And does not know how not to die —

Only the free are hunted and chased.)

She can hide but she cannot escape.

What is that word again, that soughing,

Shortness of breath, then a coughing

That betrays not presence but intent?

She’s always known what beyond ending meant.

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