Sex and Murder Magazine

By Mathias Nelson

Apples fell out of her eye.
Bloody tears
like the cupped palms of a murderer.
I flicked the arrow sticking in her socket
and its wood waved like a thin finger.
This made the raccoons snicker—
the hunter’s wife being dead
and the fawn licking ants off her face
like he did to preserve his dead mother.
But this time the fawn didn’t care
if she rotted.This time
he was just hungry
for revenge, so I like to say
to the fire
amidst the trees of my hut,
to the howls
of coyotes now eating
lost babies.