She flies the crow black wing

All the dry earth, clay and hollow
flesh of mud thick as sin; drop
drop of rain on the jawbone worm,
contagious soil. …moment of a

Breeze secretly from her labor walk,
crows out of the wooded twigs. …my
wings, my naked birds; flight of air
in the broken room night—fly the

Outside weather over the hay bed field
in quick dark light; claw of the squeeze
from the thunderclap. …the clay’s thirst
sighs long and cold; rain deluge on black

And wing—crows toppling in the muddle
field; she with a broken wing flailing; trace
out a walk alone, mend the bones. …sigh
long as the crows flight in a wind and dawn.

Copyright © 07/03/2016 lance sheridan

She flies the crow black wing

4 comments on “She flies the crow black wing

  1. rabirius says:

    I like it very much.

  2. Barbara says:

    Lance where does the magnificent images contained herein come from, they’re explosive and spoken in a voice of knowing and living each moment – expressive and reaching the height of poetry – I’d say, “A job well-done!”

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