The animals tumble
A fall from their cradle, from
Their rest in the crescent of the moon
Twisting in mid air
Talons and teeth
Inconsolable noises of grief
Falling and calling
To mothers and mates
Alpha males and leaders of the herd
Over and over
And without a word
Little creatures tumble
Their fate is bent
On this unstoppable
Downward
Descent
A bump, a thud
They hit the ground
Wails, yelps, groans
All manners of sounds
Whimpers, murmurs
They anticipate death
Fur and feathers heave
In a united breath
Broken stares peek
For the black mass of flies
One hundred million greedy eyes
That come for the fester,
Decay and disease
Dipping its crest into the forest, the moon
Scoops more sleeping babies
From the tops of the trees
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem