Vultures are monogamous.
Cragged necks looped,
it takes them years to forget.
Wing and wing in a nest of rot,
together they pick at sinew.

Fierce devotion in a hollow church
and no organs remained.

She will consume her dead lover,
spanned on an opalescent log;
regurgitate his remains into a baby’s mouth.

Born into the leftovers,
we become remains.