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

    • This one came out of left field for me, Meg. Usually Tati’s poems are hopeful and uplifting in some way. But this one? Well, actually, now that I think on it I don’t think I could say this is merely depressing. In a strange kind of way… it’s cathartic, don’t you think? Like there’s more that could follow… 🙂

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