The Eagle Poem by PRATHAP KAMATH

One alights on an abandoned electric post
and spreads its wings. It has drizzled
in the morning; the eagle lets the April sun
lick moisture off its wings, kiss its tiny head.

Across the road is the market where blood
is let for breaking the bread on Easter.
The eagle's eyes are horizontally laid
over the market which spills around
flesh, leftovers of sacrifice.

Word wafts in from the nearby church.
The eagle picks the word leaves the flesh
and from the sky it looks down on men.