Deer In Headlights

Deer In Headlights

by Arlinda Fasliu

It’s never your fault. It’s not.
Even when he says
“I think we didn’t work out because you’re too happy”
Maybe it was the way that he called you baby
Maybe it was the twist of his wrist when you slid his hand down your body
Maybe when you said no
And he said maybe

When he says let’s play a game
And you slur ok
Maybe you weren’t ready
And it wasn’t your fault you drank a little brandy

Maybe when your head was on the pillow he should’ve left you to sleep
Like smoke fills the room
All hazy and warm
Your body expanded beyond itself

His fingers combing your hair
Between strands
Like a pseudo sweet
Like he gave a damn
Like he couldn’t protect me unless he came down for air


I DON’T give a fuck that maybe you were raised that way
That maybe your father showed you that’s what men do
That a shot of liquor get’s the job down quicker
Like your lips have wishes mine were just born to fulfill

I bet your father was a hunter
I bet he cocked a gun and grinded his teeth as he said
Women are a lot like deer
Frightened if you approach too quick

That’s why you got to lure them in
That’s why you have to be silent
That’s why you have to wait between trees admiring her existence
Waiting to take her
To show her everything that she is going to give to you
Son- women are like deer
If you don’t get them the first time
They’ll run away suffering

Like deer

Here for us to hunt for pleasure
To feed our soul
our ego
And to put up on our mantel to show the boys what we can do

As you learned about the dick measuring contest that is dominating a woman
I bet you shared it with your friends

And sir
I .Don’t .Give .A .Damn

So listen when I say

I hope you collapse.

I know I should be kinder
I know I have to forgive myself
I know I have to add up every bill and second that made you who you are
But from afar
I can’t tell

Crumbling from the valley
I’m deteriorating in front of my mother
My rivers are begging for help
But they keep pissing over the dam
I’m naked in the wind
And they are all crying for me

Do us a favor and melt your gun

Son son son
Don’t pass it on
Son son son
Put away your gun
Put away your gun.
Girls don’t wanna just have fun

Arlindo Fasliu is a Senior at the University of Iowa majoring in International Studies and Journalism and Mass Communication. She loves lengthy conversations about how we can save the world together.  She’s never been afraid of strangers, and maybe that’s the problem, or the solution. She’s looking into it.