Eye of the Beholder

Eye of the Beholder

Metal tongs pull a slice of prime rib
onto my plate at the buffet.
I notice a brunette at another table
and avoid staring at her legs.

Turkey buzzards cluster around a fallen doe
like little stout Deaths in feathered robes
and sickle beaks.

The bandage around my arm itches
from where I donated blood.
Cotton stained red and now brown.


(for this week’s Living Poetry prompt and Sammi’s Weekend Writing prompt.)

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About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he lives and writes poetry.
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13 Responses to Eye of the Beholder

  1. Cassa Bassa's avatar Cassa Bassa says:

    This definitely made me think trice 😃😄

    Liked by 1 person

  2. rothpoetry's avatar rothpoetry says:

    Interesting how perspective changes everything! Well done!!
    Dwight

    Liked by 2 people

  3. berniebell1955's avatar berniebell1955 says:

    Goodness me, Bart….blood – and our responses to it – and the taking of it.

    And… there’s so much in it – in your poem – and in blood, of the essence of each individual.

    Blood.

    “like little stout Deaths in feathered robes
    and sickle beaks.” – Goodness me.

    Vultures clear up carcasses – helping to prevent infection – useful.
    A person’s reaction can depend on how they look at them – how they ‘see’ them – food for thought again – not presented on a plate though.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. What is carrion to one; is the world’s greatest prize to another. 🏆

    Liked by 1 person

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