Talons resting on the shoulders of the welcome, talons digging, pulling, tattooing the flesh of the willing, talons kept sharp by the bones of the weak, talons strengthened by the calcium of the freshly deceased.
These talons belong to birds of different feather, birds of the storm, birds of fair weather.
They circle above opportunity waiting for the collapse of others.
They are often mistook for angels by the shadows they cast.
These birds migrate as far from yesterday as their wings will take them past.
Sometimes their talons get buried so deep they start growing outward like ...