the find

the leg, part of a leg,
the ankle
black hoof,
a sharp
ebony stone,
still intact,
the blood fresh
the white bone sheared
of skin, the string
of muscle,
of fur.
just these
remains you find
as you walk
through the woods,
walking stick in
hand
nearly stumbling
upon
your find. you look
around and can't
help
wondering if you
are next, if it's
your turn
now.