Sunday Series: The Gentlemen

A poem by Isabella Triana

You’re reading Good Grief. Enjoy this week’s original poem!

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The Gentlemen 

Strip teasing bone 
through skin, bits of
bone-white breast flash
before bloody, beading 
eyes ,a full flock of them 
vultures circling, waiting 
not to kill but to feast 
on the death of someone 
else’s doing, 

pulling apart a whole 
dead planet, making 
space for a place 
in history– 

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