Julia Horensten
my eyes teared
and slanted away
from the sun
and I wiped the salt
from my eyes
on the hot day
of a Sabbath
that stretched
to eternity
and the walk to temple
became all the more
grueling
with the whines and complaints
of friends around me
as we skirted
a flock of birds
entirely dark as night
who emerged in broad day
to pick at their fallen prey
and I wonder why
we all turn
to look
trying to figure out
if it was a raccoon
or perhaps an opossum
but later that day it rained
long and hard
but fast, unpredictable
as Florida rains may be
and on the way back
I side step
a puddle and reach
down to swirl my finger
over the frantic
tadpoles, shaking
my hand dry of the
mucky water and jogging
halfheartedly towards my friends
who later sigh in relief
at the lack of vultures
but grimace at the figure
left stripped to the bone
to be found
quite fascinating
under other circumstances
but the few stray
inky black feathers
left behind by
the satisfied hunters
are lovely in the light
of the setting sun
and I think I should
like to keep
such an image
in memory
yet not in pocket
as my hands
had been dirtied
enough by the emergence
of life, now not to be disturbed
by the end of another.
***
Julia Horensten is currently an English major at the University of Central Florida in Orlando, Florida.