An Animal On The Road

The carcass lies there in a bloody smear, its tangle
of torn fur and bits of bone a broken angle,
limbs and neck unrecognizable. All work
God’s will, we’re told. And yet He lets no creature shirk
its fate. Why must they live in fear and die in pain?
Whether death descends upon a country lane
or headlight-shrouded hill, along the brazen bustle
of a city street or in the pregnant rustle
of a forest-feeding stream, what matter? While
His pious preachers prate of nature undefiled
and pure, He kills His own, each voiceless, choiceless child.