ForkWord
Poems by Inchiki
vulture rock
like a scavenging bird hangs over a decayed cadaver
the fire rescue helicopter pauses above the steaming mountain
in descent they plunge into the succulent stinking flesh
to extinguish the rotting mound, a black smoke like rubber
consumes her face, oily flames licking into every hole
with hooked beaks, wattles tossed in muscular winds
explode with the feeding of the bushfire; an insane banshee
picking the bony scrublands dry. Not a morsel remains
on a vast and level plain, bright and painful to the eye.
Dots hover in the sky, disappearing upward into wide circles
a radio cry, then the static whisper of pure white ash
