Day ? - Blue Vultures

I have no idea what day it is.

'perching high on broken 
bone of a dead tree
nestled close to his
mate his smooth
bashed-in head, a pebble
on a stem rooted in
a dump of gross.

feathers, inclined affectionately
to hers. Yesterday they picked
the eyes of a swollen
corpse in a water-logged
trench and ate the things in its bowel. 
Full gorged they chose their roost
keeping the hollowed remnant
in easy range of cold
telescopic eyes …


indeed how love in other
ways so particular
will pick a corner'

Excerpt from 'Vultures' poem written by Chinua Achebe