The vultures

Hooded vulture (necrosyrtes monachus).

I don’t usually try to explain my poetry but here I’ll say this poem has nothing to do with vultures but has a lot to do with vultures.

 

The vultures descend

This one is ready meat, they say to one another

The girl pretends she’s dead

They poke her head eager to feast on her brains

But it’s turtle shell hiding arrows, mazes and puzzles

Their beaks crack and two leave

The one that stays strikes raising much dust

The girl rises, clears the dust and heads home.

 


 

Hooded Vulture (Necrosyrtes monachus)

 

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