The Diplomacy of Vultures
Vultures speak nocturnal words
of rites in daylight, circle mortality,
they narrow the distance
between their own life and
a meal of death - they feast
in this slim gap.
Branches are scored by sun
and talon as a demise is mulled over;
these sawbones flatter,
their watchful eyes caress a prospect,
hinged and cloaked
in waiting room.
Vultures are not diplomatic,
but then there is little subtlety to dying.
We like to say: he went quietly,
she slipped away, it was peaceful at the end,
and yet there were still vultures here,
hooked and beaked for denature,
there were still vultures here,
And how will we be regarded when our own comes?
As squatters of abandoned lives
to a beetle or a fly, perhaps, or
the promise of worms.
Better assemble our smiles,
Image is from wikimedia commons: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hooded_vulture_(Necrosyrtes_monachus).jpg
Image also on Twitter is from here too: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Courslmentai00miln_0401_Fig_238_Vulture.jpg