Monday, October 29, 2007


"Messenger" by S. Auberle
The raven I come upon
while hiking the mountain
lies sprawled in the grass,
glossy feathered except
for the bullet hole in her neck
where flies crawl in and out.
The cruelty sickens me
as I kneel before her,
remembering a childhood tale
of a tree somewhere
on the road to heaven
where birds go to die
and I watch, for awhile,
a wheel of black angels
circling in the glittering sky.
- mimi


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