Rabbit Vultures

In the garden 

There’s forever clover 

The hutch is still 

No sawdust raining 

An empty house 

No kicking, thudding 

No bundling of bedding 

No sneeze- or chew of weeds

An empty house  

With the door open

Cloaked starlings sail 

In the black bloated sky

Him palming tarot cards 

His false face armed 

As crooked as it was before 

Carving symbols into my childhood wall

The smell of the brick 

Evens the score 

As crooked as it ever was before 

Pillowed in the road 

Shallow, sharp huffs

And a rigid spine 

Blooming bob-tail bright

Ears tumbling round 

Beaded, Wakeful eyes

Glimmer on sight 

Glimmer in the headlight 

Pillowed in the road 

We lie head to head on the ground 

In the clover 

Vultures overhead circle

We can only blame each other 

Photo by Martina Vitáková on Unsplash

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