Untitled (Crow)
Raven vanquished, or
ask the dead sister how are things
in the blameless, in the hovering,
called by another name,
called by a slovenly practice,
flying back. We
caused this. We, assembled,
caused this perfidy and gloss,
this dread. Down the street
massive sound, dear sister,
loud blade dismantling
a maple, limb by limb, is
not a metaphor although
could become.
The dismantled limbs,
a cry from above, staggered
across the bloom of no time,
which you might have overheard
through the flames heating our
world, which we, assembled, caused.
Notes:
This piece is part of the portfolio “How It Continues to Astonish: The Poetry of Ann Lauterbach.” You can read the rest of the portfolio in the March 2023 issue. All poems are from Door by Ann Lauterbach, published by Penguin, and printed here with the permission of the author.
Source: Poetry (March 2023)