It did hurt
When I fell from Father,
Not from blood spilled on dry earth
Not from wings torn by conifers
Not from halo
Stolen by the scavengers
Those scavengers—
They felt so good
Their eyes flitting
Their claws splitting
So good
So good because, yes,
It did hurt
When I fled from Father
It hurt because
No one noticed
No one noticed
Save for the scavengers
Saved for the scavengers
Saved by the scavengers
YOU ARE READING
Poems by a Butt with a Dog's Face
PoetryThis is a compilation of my poems. Some are about smothering, some are about God, and some are just strange for sake of being strange. There are other things in here too, but I'll leave that for the insides, you know how it is. By the way, you're pr...
