appraising eyes encircle

like vultures round

the softness

of my flesh laid bare

as i awake to realize

i’m not dead


but neither can i seem to animate

these broken wings

that bent and torn

lie mangled o’er my head


oh, tis not a wish to fly so much

tis much too late for that

for the rapacious one

is closing in to plunder


but that my shoulder joint

would somehow simply bend

that there would be strength enough

to lift


these feathers


to bring them down in cover

o’er my belly, breasts, my face

that i would not be forced to bare

the consummation


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