In the natural history museum
paintings on the wall illustrate
the massive wingspans of certain
birds. The woman I am with is less
than a golden eagle + an Andean
condor. Outside it is hot + breezy
+ she turns in circles watching
real vultures, her head craned
back, circling on a thermal +
casting fast moving shadows
in the parking lot. I wonder what
is the oldest common dream among
modern humans. Though I suspect
it is something more basic than
flight, she continues to crane.
Behind the museum are chainlink
enclosures, as part of a raptor
center, housing injured birds
of prey, or those otherwise deemed
unable to survive out there, up there.
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