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The Road to Damascus

A Poem

Published on:
October 8, 2020
Read time:
1 min.
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The pelt is all that’s left. Deer hide
lies flat on the highway. No head,
no legs, just a largish furred patch.
I couldn’t stop to touch the gray
that melded into worn macadam.

Perhaps in the middle of the night,
when trafficking must turn sparse,
here comes a fawn old enough that
it has shed some spots, and it sniffs.
The power of God comes barreling
down the road, all big bright lights.

Ronnie Sirmans
Ronnie Sirmans is an Atlanta newspaper digital editor whose poetry has appeared in Sojourners, America, The Behemoth, Jewish Currents, The American Journal of Poetry, and elsewhere.

Cover image by JOHN TOWNER

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