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.
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