the vulture

they trapped me in the South.
two hands prying open my mouth
they found stones in spite, sprigs of hemlock
thrown, shook out.

they left me for the North;
i found my bearings
learned to fend for myself with little bugs and herring.
my infantile feet spread for the earth;
i knew every leaf and yet remained devoid of mirth.

i think about it now,
how hard i have been to love
to catch, to understand—
and still they pried open my mouth
in the South,
in the sand.