The Lammergeier Daughter

That night, I opened your wardrobe and found

a trophy of vultures, their necks pierced

by hanger hooks. I saw at once

that you hunted everything I loved —

the griffon, the Himalayan, the lammergeier,

who haunted our home with wheeling cries.

I peeled off my skin then, and robed myself

as a bird bride. Veiled in morning mist

I married the sky. Of course, you aimed

at my heart, but as the bullet tore through me

I wrapped my talons around your skull,

lifted you high, and dropped you as a lamb

drops newborn from his mother

onto the snow-fleeced earth.

I landed beside you on the quilt.

And when the flesh-eaters had done their work,

it was I, your lammergeier daughter,

who devoured your bones — look, Father,

how they slide down my throat like rifles.