alfie lee writing

 

buffalo

three weeks on in
my coat of flies,
i see at last
my dragon eye

to eye. his bank
circles the mud-
hole where i'll die.
they've kept patient

watch, deference,
one last moonblanched
flicker of their
forks and i. blood

appetite, through
ages honed, come
dawn i am scraps
of horns and bones.



                                                               

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