Saturday, October 9, 2010

"Turkey Buzzard by the Road"

The she-buzzard
even disgusted,
my younger self.
As did her grave
black wings parallel
with the windshield
of my car:
Meant to appropriate
her smooth flight—
to keep up with her speed.
Cruel insufficient mimesis.
But now her great
craned garnet neck
has my respect.
I never look away.
The buzzard is sharp.
She makes real promises,
and her terms are absolute.
She is both eager and cool.
She is full of ambition
I can understand.
She is never ashamed,
as she waits on a carcass.

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