Cock's Crow

Gazing from open windows soothes my spirit -
Usually.
Eases the pressure of thought,
Settles memory,
Softens conscience.
I let it all go into the blue,
The pearly grey,
The starry dark.

Looking out this evening
My eyes met the scrutiny of a crow
Close, on a broken branch.
He extended his feathered arms like Dracula,
Then closed them with machined precision
Like a well oiled iron maiden.

His beak was blackened bone,
An ominous spear levelled at my heart.
He cocked his head,
Confident it could split
Even so small a target.

His eyes stayed rivetted on mine.

The mud-bed bottom of my mind stirred,
And in that floating world
Drowned dust devils
Lifted in their silent dances of regret:

The curve and heft of your breasts,
My eyes widening in wonder,
Being shot like an arrow
From the taut bow of your hips
In delighted disbelief, like fairyland.

The ricochets of grief I started in your eyes
That still sting like the panicked cries of disaster.

A stark crow
On a dead branch.

Only when his darkness had filled my soul
Did he take off
For death's other kingdom.