Tuesday, September 13, 2016

mechanics of mercy

Their wings drooping like cloaks,
dipping into the swampy summer waters of the lake,
two vultures perch on the branches that
turret out from the bank,
two dark swans roosting in the trees.

The daughter vulture
looks up into
her mother's carrion-hungry
eyes.

We only have a few fish,
she says
well that's enough,
her mother croaks,

The fragments are abundance
as it is.

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