Fading fog shrouds the seal,
Now overflowing with death.
Now deposited by high tide on the beach.
Edges, once a head & tail & flippers,
already eaten away in the sea.
One white gull at a time meanders,
through the gathering cloud of bugs
as though trying to hide its desire,
to pick at the edges of exposed flesh,
to digest it back to life that can fly.
Take.
Eat.
This is my body given for you.
--Terra Rafael
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