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Digital Humanities Center

Stag by Madison Leierer      


I tap twelve raps and turn back;
giants are stepping past.

I look away. This time,
I rap-tap a mandibular melody

(The audience being only my plexiglass).
I hope one of the mountains shifting past

might bend down and let me out before
I breathe my last—Oh! Someone stops,

but just to look for a moment. I curl my
chitin around the coconut husk beneath

me and wish I had a mate, or maybe something
to eat, but I’m just a common stag, a male slag,

and no one thinks twice about me. Giants
are shifting past. One bends down, but

I turn back and tap twelve raps
to my only friend, my plexiglass.