When I first see Him,
I stop so fast that my cigarette
falls out of my mouth and
burns my leg through my jeans.
I imagine just before dawn, a two
ton steel monster whipped around the
curve and collided with Him on the black
ice. In a position close to fetal, in a puddle
of frozen blood, lies God’s Beast. With His
antlers shattered around Him, the Great Elk
sleeps in fatal position on the opposite
side of the road. I cross the tarmac
to kneel on the ice before Him (the cold
soothed the burn and bit my knees) and
with our forehead pressed together, I
pray for thaw, so He can take
on His heavenly role and finally
rot back to the ruined earth.
Theo Cerami is pursuing a BFA in creative writing at the University of Maine at Farmington. They are from New Hampshire. They are also a novice bookbinder, print-maker and gardener.
Angel Rust 