Rays burst from behind the mountain,
sweep the broad beach,
rout the mist—
then emerges
stately, the indifferent star.

Flashes white in a line of smoothed prints

as all south, raw, ragged cliffs
dwindle into cloud. The sea
muscularly rolling tatters

on the puce rocks
and will heal.

Headless, slate-blue, a fresh seal
pools on the sand.
The condor withdraws his head

from the hole he’s made
of its anus, and bracing gray claws
tugs the glistening purple tube out
and farther out, until it’s so taut

I want to pluck it for its note

when it tears
wetly, when the condor
snapping his beak open, shut, chokes
down the sour scrap
toss by toss.