POEM – Crow’s Revenge


Not sure where this one came from – except we get a lot of corvids on the estate where I live and I find them fascinating…

Why couldn’t dad be a raven? That’s what
I want to know. Ravens are horny and
trendy – whereas crows are scrawny and stoned.
We get to eat lamb’s eyes and carrion
while ravens star in a poem by Poe.

A horde of crows are murder, they say-
yet unkind ravens strut about at the
Tower of London. We put the caw in
corvid – they describe beautiful black hair.
It’s not fair! What’s wrong with crow power?

I’m on the hop, trying to understand
why my egg had to crack in a crow’s nest.
This sharp elbow in the beak feels as bleak
as a corpse on a battlefield, waiting
for a pair of corbies to land and feast.

Even our crows’ feet are damned as they claw
your skin, ageing the edges of your eyes –
while ravens are sexy with the sly draw
of danger.
My bird fancies a raven.
He feathers her lovenest in my place
that foul fowl’s in for a nasty surprise
as I smash my crowbar down on his head,
cracking his raven skull under my blows,
turning his bird brain
food for crows.



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