Friday, January 16, 2009

The Vulture

No one mourns for the bird that flies
To the thief’s resting place, alone
And from his ever-healing side
Devours the daily sacrifice
Day after weary, self-resembling day
Until at liver, even Vulture gags.
Endless the wingbeats, on the barren air
That bears me hence to wet
My beak's worn edge on flesh
Grown hard with long resistance
Until I can no longer decide
Whose punishment is worse.
Prometheus? Fire-thief and Titan, or
The unnamed servant, wingborne
Executrix. Half sister to the famed

What sin ‘gainst Zeus, was mine?
Unless too narrow an obedience
Oh ‘ware the patronage of Gods,
As, vast and irrecoverable as their enmity

Simon BJ

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