Brothers and Scavengers

The vultures can’t wait
For tomorrow will be
A time of orgiastic scavenging
Of heads severed from bodies
Of entrails spilled by daggers
Of limbs in a meal
Of blood, silt and vegetation.
 
Brothers have called the vultures
To a feast amply supplied
With the remains of their brothers
That is why expectant mothers
Will die undelivered
That is why green farms
Will wither in mid-rainy season
Even though the warriors
Crack jokes before a dying fire
The dog that wanders in
The dark empty streets
Knows that it has just begun.

Eclipse

Who watches
When the hawk
Defies ancestry
And bloodies her claws
With the hen’s offspring
In one fatal flight?

[click to view introduction]