The raven
descended
last night.
Flapping black wings
opened up a hole in my ceiling.
Spackle rained
in drips
of sweat.
The raven opened its beak,
laid down
and spread its wings on my chest.
A black man
was shot to death
on a clear day.
With his hands up
and nothing in his
spread fists
they still shot him.
The raven came to comfort me in the loudness
of a coughing,
suppressed cry.
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 9:31 PM UTC
The raven
descended
last night.
Flapping black wings
opened up a hole in my ceiling.
Spackle rained
in drips
of sweat.
The raven opened its beak,
laid down
and spread its wings on my chest.
A black man
was shot to death
on a clear day.
With his hands up
and nothing in his
spread fists
they still shot him.
The raven came to comfort me in the loudness
of a coughing,
suppressed cry.
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