Small Furry Dead Things

Was it the way I cast my eyes
To the side when you looked at me
Or the way I protested all your pretty words?
What pointed you in my direction?

How did you know I would not run?
That I would freeze in the headlights
Only a brief protest and then compliant
With your destruction

It must have been the sight of me
Too tempting to resist
A new prize, stuffed and mounted
Arranged precisely in your memory

Tell me, how did you recognize
My presence, my vulnerability
And why did you keep driving
Into me as I  lay flat

Was it the culmination of months
Spent waiting for the right moment
To run me down and then withdraw
Leaving me toe-up and swollen
By the roadside, a stiffening mess
In the afternoon sun?

-Zoe Richardson