I am a part of race: humana
Noise of the traffic
Puddle — splash!
Wadded up grocery advertisement
Dog pee on the sidewalk—
Any sidewalk there at all!
The buzzards begin
to circle: three,
then five, then ten,
all swooping, black as
the death they portend.
“You’re an inch away, human”
they seem to say.
“Just one tumble, misstep,
one wrong bite of food,
and you’re Ours, too.”
They fly some distance
away, so I cannot see
what death they seek.
The flag on the Parsons
building is at half mast
for days now.
The buzzards perch
beside it, convinced of
the symbolism.
Confidently, they stand
as the flag whips and
waves in the cold November air.
There is life here, somehow,
in this dance: perched
birds, grooming, flag
whipping at half mast.
The death in it all
is just too horribly ordinary, lately.
Houston, 2017
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