February 6, 2013

The Black Bird

The black bird
walks on my roof,
hungry for the latest news.
He caws and caws
into the night,
having nothing
left to lose.
I must not pay him
any heed, I've seen
his shadow
in books I read.
In famous falcon
and raven texts,
only the bird knows
what comes next.
In my dreams
he circles overhead,
so cocksure
I'm marked for dead.
Cawing loudly
when I awaken,
he waits for me
to be forsaken.