Erica Minton

CARRY ON

Why do we name our angels
but not our vultures?
Both circle, feed on famine,
hover, cast bird shadows.
Neither can be easily beckoned
but both know time, hear
the clocks in their heads
and sense emptiness miles away.
Vultures do not listen
when our prayers clatter
like dice on felt; angels lick
their chaste blades clean.
Where is the line between the two?
Or are they the same wings
spinning the same patient circles over us,
the latest sweating carrion?