There is a little bird smeared across the tarmac Ripped open, rearranged, bloody and ugly; the unidentifiable remains of horror Its small body splayed open, revealing startlingly red viscera Soft grey feathers flutter around the edges I can’t seem to look away, like a car crash, or a strange funhouse mirror I am utterly transfixed by this tiny tragedy Big black crows circle Eager to devour this insignificant life