Loop

Carrion wings hang limp
On the backs of broken yesterdays
I don’t want them in any proximity
I cannot bear the stench
But vultures come along like doubts
At the speed of darkness
To save the undying from burial
And bring them back to me,
The predator feathers of prey wings
I man the guns myself and 
Call all hands to battle stations
And it starts raining 
Exhumed evidence 
That the buried hatchet often is 
A boomerang seeking fulfillment 
With the new found vengeance 
Of primeval sapience
Burning mad with 
Insatiable curiosity