Kissing Carrion
Let us go then, to the highway feast
to watch the carrion’s playful dance,
the pecking of beaks, pawing of claws,
ripping of fur. Stiff legs in a graceful
embrace with gnashing teeth and dripping
tongues, kissing and chewing lifeless lips.
Let us hear the brood rustle from their summer
slumber joining the picnic by the on-ramp.
Buzzing flies plant seeds of immortality
in the taut trunk, crooked joints, sockets and lungs.
Let us breathe deep the youthful elixir
of spilled intestines by the side of the road.
Let us touch the carcass of New Life
to tug and tear meat from the pale bones.
Let us savor the bittersweet tang
of this savior in the roadside ditch.
All creatures eat in unison,
Nature’s maids cleaning and sweeping
the discarded change on the dresser
to supplement their wages, investing
these remains for their own offspring.
A feast for first life—on last.
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You certainly described nature the circle of life.
Some folks wouldn’t touch this with a ten foot pole, but such is life.
I liked your comparison “the discarded change on the dresser” to the remains of the dead animal.
First off, carrion is the dead carcass of an animal upon which other animals feed, so it is hard to imagine a carrion’s dance. Do you mean the dance of scavengers? Stiff legs cannot embrace. Who is the brood that rustles from summer slumber? How many of us go to smell the spilled intestines by the side of the road? Who dares touch this carcass? And savor what? Why do you assume we should all go and do these things? Then you switch metaphors in the last stanze to small change on the dresser when you’ve had us on our knees roadside injesting smells and touching this thing. I’m not objecting to your subject matter or message, but your delivery of such. It’s actually quite an inventive subject matter! But take it down a notch and speak of what happens in reality and don’t make it so personal to everyman, I think. Would love to read a rewrite of this. Keep at it!
I simply love this. Love it! This is beyond unique and I have never come across a poem like this. I love the title. It is beautiful and morbid and as true to life as life itself.
Your choice of words and sticking with the theme of them, wording, flow – they all blend together refreshingly well. The imagery is awesome.
I have nothing put praise to offer for this – no improvements can I see.
I will point out my favorite parts:
1. Let us go then, to the highway feast - very powerful line and opening
2. Let us hear the brood rustle from their summer slumber joining the picnic by the on-ramp. – love the imagery and use of the word picnic
As I reread – there are far too many lines to pick out that I enjoy so I will just leave my two favorites up.
Your ending is wonderful – A feast for first life—on last. – powerful and oh so true.
Beautiful job. Hope to read more of your work.
I honestly have never read a lot of poetry however I did like this. Never I have seen the art of eating dead flesh from a carcass by vultures and the like as glamarous and beautiful as this. Good job.
Excellent poem! I loved how you found beauty in something that most would find repugnant. After the second line, you might consider replacing the comma with a dash (or colon/semicolon). As it is, your first sentence is a little comma-heavy. Excellent rhythm and use of alliteration. I think you could find a better title, though. Anyway, great job! I hope to see more of your writing.
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