a hunchback
in a black raincoat
face of black leather
broken wing
survives on cat food
and leftovers
from an apartment tenant
who pities
who also puts out
a bed for him
(a faux sheepskin hood
of some sort)
and a bowl of water
he slinks under
my daughter-in-law’s car
in cold, nasty weather
and defecates
white splotches
worthy of
Kandinsky
she wishes
the neighbors
would let
nature take its course
but I rather like
the sight of
the sad creature
makes me think of
a cold war spy
in the cold
Jeanette Tryon has resided in New Jersey all her life. She is a registered nurse and has worked in emergency, surgical, and intensive care settings. Her short fiction has appeared in Bellowing Ark, Literal Latte, and Clackamas Literary Review. She recently completed her MFA degree at Rutgers-Camden. “Turkey Vulture” is her first poetry publication.