Breakfast
Morning
outside Belgrade,
three pitch-black vultures
hunch over a deer carcass a dozen feet off the road,
burying their beaks in the dark red buffet of
a rib cage lying in the dying snow.
A trucker blasts by going the
opposite way and doesn’t
turn his head one
degree to see.
No doubt,
he’s had
breakfast
already.
Don’t
skip
it.
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