Non Grata

I look at the sky.
A vulture hovers over
the horizon chest
like a tin pectoral cross,
barely hanging by a thread.

Smell of carrion.
I lie on the ground and see
the vulture falls down
into the cloudy collar.
The sky lost the faith. Like me.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

53 thoughts on “Non Grata

  1. This one hits close to home. As someone who used to be religious, the feelings of alienation and having to start from scratch under a new paradigm are strong in this poem. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that you have been through this experience too. I love this, Tati. Very much. ❤

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