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spysgrandsonPoems
dead doe on the baked prairie grass, buzzards circling overhead we're in lawn chairs, downing Buds, waiting for the feeding to begin but Donny is impatient, expecting the birds to dine on his schedule NOW, this very second, while they are riding the currents above watching, waiting to see if we move closer to our **** Donny curses them: **** dumb birds, I shot that deer for you he shoots at the kettle, but they continue long loops, unperturbed Donny again cusses the buzzards and shoots the doe again as if killing her twice will hasten the descent of the birds Donny complains sweat is stinging his eyes he pours the last of our water over his head and removes his shirt near sundown we are out of beer and Donny is asleep one by one the birds land, until the wake is feasting before me talons, beaks at work, tugging, tearing; the eyes the appetizers it seems I don't wake Donny, though I know he will be mad for missing this meal hungry as he was for a blood mass, but, I'll let my brother sleep while the shadows of skillful sculptors grow longer on the plain and the fawn becomes a crimson work of art Donny would never appreciate
0
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 10:08 PM UTC
on summer's plain
dead doe on the baked prairie grass, buzzards circling overhead we're in lawn chairs, downing Buds, waiting for the feeding to begin but Donny is impatient, expecting the birds to dine on his schedule NOW, this very second, while they are riding the currents above watching, waiting to see if we move closer to our **** Donny curses them: **** dumb birds, I shot that deer for you he shoots at the kettle, but they continue long loops, unperturbed Donny again cusses the buzzards and shoots the doe again as if killing her twice will hasten the descent of the birds Donny complains sweat is stinging his eyes he pours the last of our water over his head and removes his shirt near sundown we are out of beer and Donny is asleep one by one the birds land, until the wake is feasting before me talons, beaks at work, tugging, tearing; the eyes the appetizers it seems I don't wake Donny, though I know he will be mad for missing this meal hungry as he was for a blood mass, but, I'll let my brother sleep while the shadows of skillful sculptors grow longer on the plain and the fawn becomes a crimson work of art Donny would never appreciate
spysgrandson
Written by
spysgrandson
American
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 10:08 PM UTC
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