07 February 2014

IT'S DARK NOW by Paul Corman-Roberts

In the feral below I saw
the hunched men
with sharpened beaks

surgically grafted to
the blackened translucence
of their faces through which

they would feast and laugh
bitterly at the gift given them
by the talents of their own

too clever shamen in their
eagerness to manifest sentient
shadows in naked sunlight

in turn making themselves
invisible to their enemies
and to their prey but also,
quite by accident

each other
so none could ever tell
if they were coming
or going

until it was all over
and nothing was left
for the sun to expose.

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