ira Corvid

Standard

November 2016

The round eyes opened

High up in the trees

Eyes of night, cloud, and blood

The feathered bodies guarded their nests

And sang a song to those who would hear.

The song dragged along flayed sinew

The song was the last scream of the burning witch

The song was the last scream of the mother

Pushing the black-haired daughter out of her body

The song was the last keening

Over the body of

The dead mother

Two years

The bright eyes are open again

The leaves fall

The crows are in the corn

The ravens battle the hawks

The Mother unfolds Her wings

Woman do you hear the battle cry?

 

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