Convergence - Steve Trenam

[Larry Robinson]

Convergence

The blood-red heads 
of Turkey Vultures,
their leathery skin designed
to burrow into bodies
and strip fetid flesh
from bones, lack
the feathered allure
of other birds.

But when they soar
on warm, rising currents, 
their broad wings sculpt
the air in circular patterns
and they become artists of motion
as they scan the ground 
for their next meal.

They are morticians of the sky.
They dispose of dead meat
that will never see 
the inside of a casket.
Bodies that, without this bird’s
peculiar appetite,
are left to rot in place.

The job of an earthbound mortician
is to sell polished caskets,
but what made the vulture
choose her role to play?
We say something “smells
to high heaven”—
precisely the scent 
the vulture seeks.

No prey to be had—
no life or death battle
like her raptor brethren.
No killer instinct needed.
Just be willing to deal
with death not of their 
own making.

They stand on mountain tops, 
their ponderous wings outstretched
in the hope the mid-morning sun
will draw the permeating stench 
from their scavenger bodies.

	- Steve Trenam
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