Crow
high is the crow
near the stars
and free of scars

flesh and feathers
of different shades
bruised
purple, blue, pink
and wings
of black and green

she is cursed, they say
to live where the colors fade
dull grays, blacks, and whites
so,

late at night,
above the stars,
she clips her wings
and says goodbye

now,

she keeps her skin--
even more bruised and broken--
hidden beneath
the deep black of her wings

hidden,
but bright
like the stars
that shine high
at night.