How I Raised the Dead

I was circling because
I smelled something fresh--
and then, I saw it
lying in the ditch;
something had destroyed it,
and all that was left
were bits of torn carnage,
and I picked and pecked
and devoured the flesh.
Yes, I always swoop in
when I smell a death.
-
Blowflies hummed in the darkness
upon my swift descent;
pungent were the frenzied maggots,
sweet the ripened season's zest.
Glimmers from the gloomy crescent
glittered silver still duress;
bones laid bare in the garden,
red the flowers painted carcass.
-
Harken, hell-bent brethren
to how I raised the dead--
having trailed exsanguinated
innards o'er vacant heads!