Postcard Recipe from Hunting Season

Gunshots turn me sideways in my chair,
face me out the window, duck sitting
pretty for the kill. But it’s not me
they want, they want the hearts of deer
in their sights, slung in the backs of their
pickups for show. Then they want them
cooked in a pan over uneven heat,
in Sprite instead of wine, ketchup
instead of butter. Kill what is legal,
I say, but don’t cook it badly.