Like us, vultures rely on death for sustenance. . .
On the ground, a group of vultures is called a
committee. In flight, they’re a kettle.
When feeding, a wake.
I
I saw the committee once
as I walked by butcher stalls
in Mérida after a bullfight
black-cloaked crinkled
grey-headed crones hunched
together on the wall
wise xopilotes in patient
deliberation, waiting
to eat death,
to sing grunt-songs
and hiss-songs, to
purify the world.
II
In old age I pray
for their wild fortitude,
willingness to dip
into mystery, be fed.
I pray for the grace
to welcome them
as once I watched in awe
the kettle of wings
circling the thermals
black soaring
calligraphy
penned against blue fate.
III
When I’m gone
I pray my loved ones
find stories to feed on
at my wake, when
enshrouded by vast black
wings I’m borne
across the edge
of this life into another,
or simply across
as they break me
down into
the whole.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 26, Issue 4.
Poet and writer, Regina O’Melveny has published in literary magazines such as The Bellingham Review, The Sun and Barrow Street. Her long poem, Fireflies, won the Conflux Press Nature Poetry Award. She’s published three chapbooks, Secret, New and the prizewinning other gods from the Munster International Literary Centre. Poetry books include Blue Wolves winner of the Bright Hill Press award and The Shape of Emptiness released by Sheila-Na-Gig Editions. Her first novel, The Book of Madness and Cures, was published by Little, Brown and Company. Her most recent novel, The Sea-Cure, is forthcoming from Running Wild Press.
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