Whitetail Shoulder Mount, Wisconsin

Whitetail Shoulder Mount, Wisconsin

I swear the head of the buck
My brother shot has turned 
Since last I was home like it did
The snowy morning he heard 
A stick crack his and antlers
I swear have grown
Two points a shot from the top 
Of the key to be mounted 
On a cabin wall is a kind
Of immortality had my brother 
Missed and the deer died
A natural death he would have 
Gone into air with the vultures
Into the ground in the worms
Flesh shattered into myriad forms
Leaving only his bones for boys
To find the boomerangs of the ribs
The break-action rifles of the legs
The cave-riddled hill of the skull
Instead he looks about the way
He did before my brother pulled
The trigger only the other way