Despy Boutris

Another Dream of Roadkill

In the dream, I pull over
to the side of the highway, run
to the middle of the road,

& lift the furred body I recognize
as roadkill. How, seconds before,
I saw the creature dash

toward the thrush of trees & I swerved
to avoid it, then felt the wheels
flatten it, heard its half-audible cry.

In the dream, I run my fingers
through its fur, feel its still-warm body.
In the dream, the Lord stands above us,

says, What’s dead stays dead. In the dream,
He hands me a pocket knife,
says to take what I want. A paw?

A foot to cure for a necklace or keychain?
I half want to take the blade
to His smoke-pocked face. Not

to the flesh of this creature,
wet snout, half-shut eyes, not
to these carpal bones,
​
so much like our own,
that childlike paw curling shut
around my thumb.

---

Ars Poetica

                           If you truly love nature,
                          you will find beauty everywhere.
                                           — Vincent Van Gogh 
​
These sunflowers,
their endless petals,

the yellows & blues
& reds tangling

into a warm prism
of light. How our minds

wander. How
we mutilate in fits

of despair. & when
I say love out loud

at twilight, I mean
us artists turning pain

into beauty, I mean
harsh brushstrokes,
​
that vase, those blooms
beaming gold.

---

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Despy Boutris's writing has been published in Copper Nickel, Colorado Review, American Poetry Review, The Gettysburg Review, The Journal, Prairie Schooner, and elsewhere. Currently, she teaches at the University of Houston and serves as Editor-in-Chief of The West Review.