who rise ungainly from the fields,
red heads almost unbearable
to regard, crooked and gelatinous,
how they circle their obsession
on the scent of the winds, always
circling back, returning to settle
on that one dead thing that satisfies,
the past to be pecked and pondered –
forsaken fare for others, but for
the scavenger the favored meal –
like us, who eat at the table
of forgetfulness, ask the dead
to nourish us, beg forgiveness
as we circle and swoop, descend,
fold our wings, bend to the maggoty flesh,
gorge on the spoiled, glistening feast
As a vegan who once ate meat, I vote yes! to this wonderful metaphor of human meat eaters as turkey buzzards. I can see us folding our wings, bending to the maggoty flesh.
These three poems by Browning are terrific. This of the turkey buzzards is particularly arresting.