Vulture.

Vultures sit on the 

dashboard 

of promise,

flicking their 

great 

brute of wings.

You rise from shadows of

things,

you empty out your pockets,

and call to the wild,

the wild wilderness

that holds my tears.

Vultures peck at 

corn fields,

and spout calls 

of venom.

I ward myself away, away,

breathe in the cold.