The Vulture's Apparition - The Scavenger Poem by N.K. Trevor

In between the claws of its annealed, temper’d feet
The stubborn bird has clawed to its scavenged meat
Not a kill, but the rotting of some fresh, flesh feed;
That is still ostensive; of slit scars - whence it bleed

Like the raven, it has come to bid the heart farewell
A heart that has its hues from scorching, turned pale
To be elaborated no longer by solipsism’s reflection
But gloom; that gleams from the vulture’s apparition

It is not by despondency, that the bird is an illusion
No, my heart cannot be wolfed by such imagination -
But she; who bears the arms of a friend, yet a fiend;
An embodied vulture, a seamless incarnation blend-

Who lurks no more, in the dimness of my deliriums
To petrify me at the plague of such forlorn tedium’s
Where my heart - half devoured, bleeds to its death;
While the scavenger; bargains to my waning breathe