Crow

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Today I am a crow,

onyx quills and hollow bones,

beady eyes glistening in feral sockets,

flashing from fetid heap to heap –

a garbage grabber,

reveling in rubbish,

wrestling with the necrotic.

Perhaps this is the reason for the schism within –

an instinctual confusion,

trapped between species,

I’m limited by my log-like limbs,

stuck in the wrong bag of skin,

quick wits bound and bogged

in brains too big and broken by

Trying to comprehend all this.

I flutter in clumsy confusion, fighting

the desire to land on things long dead,

to digest the rotten as though

it might power a flight

into the heart of a shining flock

above the dark thoughts

Imprisoned in my monkey mind.

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HS 10.14.2016

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