Mudlark No. 46 (2012)

A Day in the Life

The grass leaps on its long-legged green.
The live blades fling in the early light.

The crows scour like fat
microscopes, beaks focused in.

Sun builds a shadow prison.
The crows enter, wings unlocked.

Ghost moon squirms in, squeezes
between pines, one thin slice
of white lime.

Hunger juices
the birds’ chary eyes.

Heat snaps
from their unhinged

The shadows grow disjointed
skeletons. The pines point,
Which way?

Crow-Eater strides
blithely past them.

The crows hold fast
to their feathered edges.

(An ancient oiled
and polished claw
inside the day

Susan Kelly-DeWitt | Bitter Honey
Contents | Mudlark No. 46 (2012)