poem: the crow – 02/03/22

the raven dances before my eyes he’s really quite a dream

dark enveloping sight to be seen I want to be taken by him

he rolls his r’s he dances, charms, his deep blue eyes engorge

and pretty pretty provocative he flaps his wings: –

what a dirge…

never battle weary, never battle heavy this path is owned by him

and him and I we touch the stars the dark moon heaves the skies

I heard his words they’re in my heart

but I cannot fathom the sooty, blackened art

so unto him I cry.

but I will dream of another man

I have my crow he’s native bound house dwelling on sand

he’s the perfect familiar to a darkened ‘line

with nine lives to live but on number 10

I guess this cat has more times to thrive

and she, oh she, will, coupled with he, will conjoin

entwine, divine,

and dine upon each other’s feasts,

their souls will know, be, hailed unto thee

the sunset’s reds and blues don’t matter the horizon glares before our eyes

but for a crow and for a cat and the wandering accompanying later bats

we will divine with magic all damn night,

we will divine with sheer and utter delight.

© 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

Photo from Pixabay


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