I planted a minuet lilac in my garden
All summer the lilac grew straight and flush
With tender green leaves shaped like hearts
Then one day, I left the gate open
And a young stag came into my garden
A three-year-old, judging from his points
His eyes were [?]
Round and black
Two of mine would have fit into one of his
He lay down on the grass
Taking that regal pose favored by French chefs working in lard and ice
That's nice, I thought
That's nice
He rested a few minutes
Then rose in a relaxed sort of way
And began a stately amble
He walked beautifully
Like Louis XIV
But his casual air was a lie, he knew where he was going and why
The heart-shaped leaves fluttered vainly, like Andromeda chained to the rocks
He knew he could take his time
And he did
He lowered his crowned head in a courtly bow
And his pink tongue began to flick
In and out, in and out
Tearing the leaves from the branches
His fine little white teeth moving in a circular direction
Crunching and crushing them
Deliberately
One after the other
Without haste
Tear, crunch, crush
Tear, crunch, crush
And when they were all gone
He thrust his antlers into the bare branches
And raked them through
Again and again
As though he were combing his hair
Stripping all the bark
But still he wasn't finished with the minuet lilac
For better torque, he added a twist after the thrust, and before the pull
Thrust, twist, pull
Thrust, twist, pull
Until all that remained of the lilac was a bit of stubble
And a few sticks on the grass
Then, turning away with the grace of a ballet dancer, he moved on