ODE
ODE


Poems: Loss

The Crows

 

There was a jungle curiosity in the heads of the elderly maidens,
as quiet as I have ever seen it.
—Well come then, and look towards the city:
the ancients come down the road on padded feet, old, crooked arms.
And the crows have a look of vengeance,
white eyes.
Don’t let me see anything more.