Wednesday, 7 August 2019

Carrion

A poem from 2019


The Pearly Queen is dead
And already black birds are circling
Beady eyes wide with blood lust
Delighting at the instinct of ripping flesh
Red drips from the beak
Tasty morsels of human

Jellied eyes, no longer see
She is blinded by her death
It’s a blessing that she can’t see the coming carnage
At Pearly Gates you cannot view what’s happening on Earth
You rely on the rumours brought back by angels
While awaiting a new body

image by skeeze on pixabay

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