Brittney Scott: After the Hunt

Here’s the body the dogs robbed—
the limbs strewn around the field like prophecy.
She won’t make it,
they say. They say
the body found in her bed
was eaten right through to the floral mattress.
They had to shut her eyes
because she would not stop
blinking up at a bone marrow colored sky,
enjoying her party, the confetti
of her flayed body.
The dogs got sick on her form,
the remains of her last meal of steamed artichoke
grapes, mercy, and rejection.
Don’t they know
What’s good for one
will poison another? So
they say. They say
the dogs died in a circle
and she rose the next day
to bury them and bring flowers
to their graves.

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