My father tells me he finally saw her
white body on the side of the road. He only stopped
because he thought it might be a dog.
It had been three weeks since he last saw the white doe
or any of her fawns. He had checked the abandoned deer stand
for signs of use, walked the perimeter looking
for fresh tire marks. We’ll see if the fawns can make it without her.

He couldn’t bear to drive by the body every day, watching
the crows working their way through her.
After a week, he called animal control.
I’m not sure if you’ll even be able to scrape her up at this point.
By then, the dirt and blood covered her. She looked
like any other casualty.