The Body as a Vessel

There are things to be read in posture
in voice tone and glances thrown
What do I say to you,
around and without the words?
Do tell...
Do you see hell?
Behind the retina, through my window,
is a swarm of mosquitoes
a manged pack of scavengers
All of the above
eyeing your flesh
What would be a halo,
is a harem of vultures circling my scalp
waiting, wondering what will be left
when all the stronger carnivores have gone
These wretches keep good company,
while life on the outside passes with time


Copyright 2011 Matthew M. Danielson