Love how he makes them almost lazy and human first, overslept on a Sunday, and then reminds you what glorious craving really means. Holy and hideous at the same time.
How interesting. And coincidental. Last week an elk died in a gully below our home and we watched the vultures line up in all the trees around our home waiting for their turn at the feast as the body itself was covered in wings and beaks. Then the coyotes would come and wrestle away bit of the flesh, as others ran around mad with desire, howling. Today, there's nothing left but bones and hide and that sickening stench. My husband cut away the antlers and stuck them up on a fence post where I catch glimpses of it out of my kitchen window. It always gives me a brief start, thinking its the elk itself standing there by the fence staring back at me. Maybe I'll write a poem about this.
Love how he makes them almost lazy and human first, overslept on a Sunday, and then reminds you what glorious craving really means. Holy and hideous at the same time.
Well put!
How interesting. And coincidental. Last week an elk died in a gully below our home and we watched the vultures line up in all the trees around our home waiting for their turn at the feast as the body itself was covered in wings and beaks. Then the coyotes would come and wrestle away bit of the flesh, as others ran around mad with desire, howling. Today, there's nothing left but bones and hide and that sickening stench. My husband cut away the antlers and stuck them up on a fence post where I catch glimpses of it out of my kitchen window. It always gives me a brief start, thinking its the elk itself standing there by the fence staring back at me. Maybe I'll write a poem about this.
What a spectacle, you were a guest at the feast.
A feast of a poem!
I agree!
Good one!
Glad you liked it.
Just the right bracing tonic to set the tone for the morning-after of my 87th birthday
Bracing indeed. Poems don't have to be about flowers and love.