---

lying there is a dead hawk

on the side of the road,

wing up

being propped by a bone

Broken, Pointing up

back to the sky.

Its feathers more gold

than anything around

Could you not tell?

Nature has no place here

We claw at everything

desperately choking it

You can see it in the greys

in the blacks

In the heaps

that never rot

You should have seen

BIRD

that we'd crush you

instantly