the vultures picked her bones
‘til they were clean as ivory
laying on the sun bleached sand
listening to the symphony of the waves
I almost stepped on her
(stopped my breath to see her there)
curled in pristine fetal pose
asking me to wonder,
how she got there
with her rhinestone-studded collar
far from the kitty litter she sniffed and tapped
before she wandered to this ancient shore,
somehow managed to stop breathing,
and become a feast for fowl
I needed a story
to tell, to explain
to map the path to this place
to this white state of grace
but the others,
the vultures,
needed only her soft flesh
and a place to fly away
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 10:11 PM UTC
the vultures picked her bones
‘til they were clean as ivory
laying on the sun bleached sand
listening to the symphony of the waves
I almost stepped on her
(stopped my breath to see her there)
curled in pristine fetal pose
asking me to wonder,
how she got there
with her rhinestone-studded collar
far from the kitty litter she sniffed and tapped
before she wandered to this ancient shore,
somehow managed to stop breathing,
and become a feast for fowl
I needed a story
to tell, to explain
to map the path to this place
to this white state of grace
but the others,
the vultures,
needed only her soft flesh
and a place to fly away
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