VAULT

by Ellie Snyder

A spear of the wrought iron fence
Through the skin below the back of the joint

Back hoof pointing nearly to zenith the deer
Pulls skin to muscle apart struggling

At the irremediable failure of the single jump
Early call to Fish & Game doesn’t bring

The darts before the deer is dead
Dangling still by the string chord of fur

The last cool morning turns hot

Ellie Snyder is a poet from Montana living in Boise, Idaho. She writes and manages socials for a nonprofit helping people, pets and the planet, and reads poetry for Kitchen Table Quarterly. Read her work in Pangyrus, The Blood Pudding, Drunk Monkeys and elsewhere, and find her on X @egsnyds.