a crow with a crooked back
clipped wings and broken beak
found his way to me yesteryear
to the date, the hour, the minutes of this uneventual meeting which
the bizarre cannot detach
a similar experience may scar and take will to heal
should we feel want for, I pray we do:
I would do it again.
a dirty doomed scrawny living thing
what, who and why has Death so narrowly shoved you my way friend?
instead you throw no weight, get carried by the jail of the Wind ever binding
at mercy, unrepending; unto me, my arms, my open door
both starving for answers
stuffed and weary of pilling on further questions.
chosen to be seen
apparition you Are deformed
afraid of what's to come
they pass the time playing cards
and I throw a tantrum and bicker
for I have not been invited to join table
pour myself a drink, rest a while, listening out for my name just in case.
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