The Execution Of The Moose Poem by William F Dougherty

The walnut antlers swept behind his head,
a crown without dominion to defy
a brain disease that sapped his sense, misled
his sloping bulk from colder, broader sky
and slowly gnawed him numb and nearly blind:
a trotting quarry yapping dogs could chase
in neighbor woods and marsh so undefined
he sniffed no wind of green, unhounded space.

The warden fixed his aim, let crack a flash—
the moose's crown of antlers plunged like stone,
as knees unlocked, and with a liberating crash
he crumpled in a heap of hide on bone,
and inward plunged, released in spacious sheen
of stately antlered forests, ever green.