after the vultures have had their fill
lichens stretch out their many-pronged fronds
towards what is left of the sun
moss curls out in-between webbed knuckles
spreads across the ground
everything returns, and turns
we build steeples with our hands long after
the church has burned
you look at love and later love
becomes the lens through which you see
trees caress the sky
we trade places and lives
meat for metal, metal for wood
wood for fire, fire for salt
salt for oil, oil for gems
gems for coins
for the ferryman
to trade here for there
vultures dance with their wings spread wide
facing each other
all feathers straining outwards
