Vulture Circles

A vulture

circling

overhead,

looking down

at another vulture,

circling

underhead.

.

I’m between them

(the current talking head)

and I was/will be them.

I am a vulture

hovering over the corpse

of an event.

The corpse

is the vulture below me.

For the vulture above me

I am that event.

.

The vultures

look down and mourn

in a chain

from the ground

into the sky.

I am circling,

and so are they,

the same way as

I did before.

.

As I circle,

I watch and listen

the evolved repetition

of the carnage

where the pieces salvaged

have become my past

and future

sustenance.

I live off of this

chain.

.

~

.

I wonder if the chain

will someday

choke me.

.

~

.

Sometimes

it gets pretty close

and I grow pnigophobic.

Against the cold metal

I am forced to ask,

“Is this

a sustainable practice?”

.

When that question

has been broached,

I can’t go back.

.

Is the vulture above me,

my future

or that of

my predator?

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