I have married a crowJilly Dybka
The bird died in my hands, then was OK. The bird smelled like outside. I was inside. The bird flew off. I was a tree. I prayed to the Crow Soul. Feathers. Beak. The bird died, then flew off. Into the smoke. To turquoise sky. Wing-easy flier. Beak-breaking sky. I was a tree. Crow-joker in disguise. Navigator-prankster. Raucous kooky Crow Soul. He flew away. I was a tree. Crow Soul smelled like sky. Go tell his brothers. Crow Soul died in my hands. Then he was free. Thank you morning sun and thank you feathers.
Jilly Dybka Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2019, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|