Blue fire sparks in the light
as you rise in flight:
a current of black feathers
washing the Western sky.
A call, and a call back,
barks the way,
and a cacophony of wings and consenting calls lands
on branches just beyond my window sill
where I
lie in wait with a gun,
hungry for some crow meat,
and some fun.
"No offense, but you drive me crazy, and I can't sleep."
2 comments:
HAHAhahahhaha crow meat!!!!! I love that this is your meat poem! Very clever!
http://www.cajuncookingrecipes.com/wildgamerecipes/black_bird_pie.htm
:)
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