Lammergeier

i.

balanced
in a crooked current of the river,
he watched himself rushing:
born to the wet season,
twin of a graceful brother,
always faithful and resilient until
the herd swept away;

his death was colored blue,

but six faceless lions
pulled skin from shining muscle,
spilling mucus and purplish organs
from a carcass still bleating—
stained then rotted,
little antelope under a white sun.


ii.

carrion, your red-rimmed eyes
were bleak but intelligent,
your feathers gold and flecked
with flesh-rubies
when you sought to crack bone;
marrow dripped,

liquid by your royal gluttony—
acid churning yellow,
hissing with vomit and vile;
you turned the skull in your talons,
thought of his narrow beauty,

the favored taste of his
forgiveness
spoken by his remnants,


iii.

spoken by the sky.