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squawk.
by Jared Fladelandwalking through the desert,
i spot two vultures
tearing apart a corpse.
i hesitate,
they are picking
apart
the
bones.
there is something strange-familiar
about this,
as i narrow my eyes to focus in,
as if i am staring at an old friend
once forgotten.
The vultures squabble away
with a piece of heart,
allowing me to step beside the dead,
and i realize:
it is me.
and the jaw, half open,
is smiling
because it knows. 02/14/2010 Posted on 02/14/2010
Copyright © 2026 Jared Fladeland
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 02/15/10 at 02:24 AM A good write Jared. It reminds me of a Berman movie I've seen a couple times. I believe it was "The Magician". Are you familiar with it? |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/15/10 at 04:27 PM Ha! Jared, you have gone and gotten yourself eaten! |
| Posted by Amie Golda on 02/19/10 at 03:20 AM This does remind me of those ghost movies with twists like that. But the way you put this is poetic, witty and bears a lot of implicit meaning, enough for your readers to sink their jaws into. |
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