YK Kim

Look. The deer is dead because I killed it.
Because I saw a hunk of flesh
and couldn’t remember
brakes existed. Because I was crying
and driving. Because it was winter
and things fall apart. Because
I kept going. Because I like to drive.
Because I know
these roads. Because the road
coming home is dark.
Because I go fast, faster when I’m sad.
Because I saw a pair of eyes
and closed mine.