subdermal hemotoma
left in the act
of calling it
making love
by inviting violence
inciting emotional responders
like a nine one one call
to the cosmos
but only getting
a busy signal

no cellular service
in this dead stretch
of ocean
no current
to sweep another
corpse away
left to float listlessly
until the ravens feast
on the carcass
of another
broken hearted fool
with too many words
yet never enough
substance

carrion feeders
are the same as poets
picking apart
the remains
of the stillborn heart
to fill their bellies
with just enough
to fly
to the next incidental contact
barely able
to stretch their wings
with hunger pangs
like cramped souls