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When Vulture Chirps

on a perch, the air stinks; lies swarm as flies. Dare not voice a bite of truth, or flash a light in the dark hollow, except to trace the way to the gallows. As dark clouds dip, lowering, stars slink, blinking at the rear. The sun courses without shine; the moon drones on timidly like a bunch of buzzing lies. Leeches breed in the rot, flies in remaindered potatoes from shrinking stalls. Progress stills, pinched by fear; mediocrity strides to the center stage, vulture swoops on a sport. © 2016 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things