The Cadaver

Sometimes I watch from afar
I stand by the cadaver,
watching as it stumbles,
as it crashes into rocks
drowning itself in swamps

It does not grieve me
because it did not happen to me
I leave its form behind
as the murky shadows approach

I have no part of it
This piece of flesh
which was never mine
It belongs to the early hawk
who must have its pecking

I chose to not see
when the hawk closed in
I looked away,
as the talons snapped,
I drowned out the grinding

It did not happen to me
This wasn't my being
I haven't lost a thing
and yet I am bleeding.