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Encounters with Buzzards
- University of South Carolina Press
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55 Encounters with Buzzards Perched on top of an interstate streetlight one buzzard holds his head high over five-o’clock traffic. No older than nine, she’d held a bike close to her chest at the back of that small, white church left on afternoons. That’s where she saw him, with the dead, taking what we always left to disappear on the side of highways.That one afternoon taught her to distrust the backside of churches where grass grew in tufts next to stones, slowly losing the names carved on their faces. There were no prayers hunched under his back. Only the necessity of scavage and the shining black feathers leathering his neck. ...