Sunday, 13 July 2014

Sunday Poem

No romantic, he warned me right off—
Cuckoo, hitch your wagon to this star 
and it’s a crow’s life, all dirty tricks
and rot-gut cuisine, snaffling up 
the last slice of pepperoni pizza. Now
I’m stuck here, tree-high, nest-bound, 
bored out of my violet-flecked head, but, hey,
someone’s got to do it, sit on these eggs. 
Plunderers everywhere. Turn your back
and a blue jay will rob you blind. I don’t believe 
in happiness but I do caw something
like joy when I see his glossiness pummeling 
the dusk-sharp distance, I do weep
glad tears when he’s winging toward me, 
road kill clamped between his beak.
Love him or leave him? You tell me. 
His cornfields and back alley dumpsters,
his thieving genius and high wire acts, 
the showy, pyrotechnic stunts.
This life with this crow—

witty as a pickpocket, shiny as tin foil.
Oh my dark carrion, circling, circling
From Summertime Swamp-Love (Palimpsest, 2014) by Patricia Young 

(Illustration by Nicholas Di Genova.)

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Good. But I prefer:

Crows in a Strong Wind
by Cornelius Eady

Off go the crows from the roof.
The crows can’t hold on.
They might as well
Be perched on an oil slick.

Such an awkward dance,
These gentlemen
In their spottled-black coats.
Such a tipsy dance,

As if they didn’t know where they were.
Such a humorous dance,
As they try to set things right,
As the wind reduces them.

Such a sorrowful dance.
How embarrassing is love
When it goes wrong

In front of everyone.

Cornelius Eady, “Crows in a Strong Wind” from Victims of the Latest Dance Craze (Pittsburgh: Carnegie Mellon University Press, 1997). Copyright © 1985 by Cornelius Eady. Used with the permission of the author.

Source: Victims of the Latest Dance Craze (Carnegie Mellon University Press, 1997)