Carrion

Carrion

Coming out of the building, I found
My bike picked apart like a car-killed deer
Picked apart by vultures — first the wheels,
Then the seat, then, when I came back
To pick up the frame, the frame, all that
Remained the rack adorned by the cable 
They’d snipped, the U-lock they’d sawed,
Like the bones you find, the week after 
You smelled death, under unblemished blue sky.