Human Vultures

Note: 99% of my poems are fiction. Occasional some are not. This is one of them. Corruption is everywhere. ______________________________________________________________ Of all the lovely birds of the air, The vulture is the one I hate most. But why? Isn’t such a bird God’s creation too? I suppose it’s the ugliness of its appearance, Its bare throat devoid of feathers, Its scavenging on dead animals, Bald, ugly, squabbling and filthy. I simply cannot stand it. There are others like it, alas. The human vultures that roam In search of easy gain. My wife had not been dead three hours, When I returned home feeling awful. There attached to the door of my home Was a card, giving me condolences And informing they were expert undertakers. Did I not need an expert to bury my wife? How they got to know so fast I do not know. But I am head strong in these affairs. I chose another agency, one I could trust. A few days passed and a kindly soul Phoned me up. I am a solicitor, he said. So what! You’ll need the services of one. Thanks, my friend, I have my own. Again the telephone rang and a comely voice Offered my condolences and wished To make an appointment with me, So that we could sell my home. Incredible, I thought. My home is not empty. My wife still roams about bringing me Memories I am loathe to forget. Politely I sent the lady to where she belonged. My home was not for sale. Will I receive more offers? Who knows? I’m beginning to love The flying vultures more.