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MarkMurphy
124
TheWedding Crow
On the red brick chimney
up there,
quite out of reach of man’s affairs –
feeds the black crow,
now and then preening
her dumb show in the sizzling heat.
We do not wait for her to be pleased,
translate the way
that man might perceive
the crow’s
kaww-kawwing
,
but turn instead to where the eye is deceased,
expurgated from the flesh-eaten socket of a vole.
Poor vole!
We cry,
but never,
Poor crow!
Oh no, not the lowly crow to make us swoon
over the newborn in the nest –
her crowy savagery had already begun