What It’s Like

                                                     one
                                                   tine
                                                     of
                                                   the
                                                   fork
                                                     at
                                                   the
                                                top
                                 of        the
                                    vulture
                                       tree
                                        has
                                       gone.
                                       What
                                        did
                                        the
                                       bird
                                      think
                                      when
                                       that
                                     branch
                                    dropped
                                       away
                                    beneath
                                        its
                                      feet—
      perhaps like a betrayed lover who thinks
      I’ve been on this perch much too long,
      damn if it isn’t time to flex these wings