The turkey vulture’s nose is better
than any dog’s. The great bird
rides thermals, tilts as it flies up
and up or circling, teetering down
wings dihedral, rocking lower
and lower to death’s hoard. The bird
is buzzard-clean. Its hooked beak
and bare red head dipped into maggot
flesh is death to anthrax, botulism, rabies.
Its stomach acid could burn iron.
Its throat is songless unless hissing
is singing. Courting inflames a follow-
flight dance—chase, twist, turn, chase.
Then the cloacal touch. The love birds
share care of eggs. Hatchlings, downy
and blind, are silent but for that quiet,
helpless hiss. Parents vomit them food,
teach them to fly. Many die. Survivors
grow into glory—wingspan six feet,
razor beak, cleaner of corpses,
connoisseur of carrion.