My love is Crow, but I am not. His wings
are black against my skin. His voice is raw and rough,
and his English is terrible.
Skyless, I call him down to dirt.
Not born to ground, he begs me climb
to the top most branches of the oak tree -
we kiss high and hidden.
We're found when Fall and Frost take the leaves.
A sheriff comes with a shiny badge. A deputy ogles
my fine feathered body.
I stare back, unblinking.
My love is Crow, but I am not not yet!
His blue is out of reach.
Weak winged, I cannot fly with him -
I'm falling.
For Fireblossom Friday at Real Toads
14 comments:
You never cease to amaze me with the depth of your writing. I absolutely love this!
Wooooooooow! "We kiss high and hidden."...."weak-winged, I'm falling." Your words slice cleanly as a knife. Just so good.
MZ--No matter what your poem is about and no matter what tone it takes on, your stuff is always brilliant.
Quite a love story.. Skyless and Crow a Shakespearean love story.. Great writing!!
mesmerising...i am left wondering...who is this fine feathered flightless thing who might become crow?
Oh, THIS:
"His wings
are black against my skin. His voice is raw and rough,
and his English is terrible."
Your precision of words here, throughout, is fantastic.
Oooh I absolutely adore this! Such a Shakespearean vibe to this, MZ ❤️
His English is terrible...love that. I laughed and then read the rest. Oh my. Sigh.
Brilliant and wonderful, and so tightly written. Simultaneously unique, and deeply reminiscent of all incompatible loves.
Quite a journey. ...one more victim.
Oly the mind of mama Zen could create this offering of words!
something terribly sad here ~
There is an amazing sense of contrast in this poem, between the voice of the speaker and the subject of the poem.
Yes.... love this too.
Post a Comment