Today's prompt for PAD:
"For today’s prompt, write a voyage poem. In my case, we’ll be driving along the Gulf of Mexico, but a voyage can happen in a variety of ways–even on foot, or psychologically. Heck, the process of writing a poem is a sort of voyage all its own."
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| Brought Back from the Dead |
Flight of the Short-Beaked One
She ascended clawed fingers
into his footless shoes, cracked
at the edges, a square of white
tape he hadn’t noticed stuck
to one side, she flew them
over, hovering like murders
of Corvus brachyrhynchos calling out,
interrupting his slumber, taunting her
that it was simply his time to flutter
a flightless voyage, for how can clipped
wings take to the whispering sky, how can
she, no longer a young crow, leave him
behind. Landing beloved wing-tips next to him,
she pecked his forehead, squawked
goodbye, his last sleep, from which
he can never die.
She ascended clawed fingers
into his footless shoes, cracked
at the edges, a square of white
tape he hadn’t noticed stuck
to one side, she flew them
over, hovering like murders
of Corvus brachyrhynchos calling out,
interrupting his slumber, taunting her
that it was simply his time to flutter
a flightless voyage, for how can clipped
wings take to the whispering sky, how can
she, no longer a young crow, leave him
behind. Landing beloved wing-tips next to him,
she pecked his forehead, squawked
goodbye, his last sleep, from which
he can never die.
*****
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