Untitled (Crow)

Raven vanquished, or

ask the dead sister how are things

in the blameless, in the hovering,

called by another name,

called by a slovenly practice,

flying back. We

caused this. We, assembled,

caused this perfidy and gloss,

this dread. Down the street

massive sound, dear sister,

loud blade dismantling

a maple, limb by limb, is

not a metaphor although

could become.

The dismantled limbs,

a cry from above, staggered

across the bloom of no time,

which you might have overheard

through the flames heating our

world, which we, assembled, caused.