Eyes of Onyx; Mouth of Moths

Murder of crows in the

skeleton tree

All but one flew off,

cawing, in a mockery of three

She spits rose gold love and ambrosia

leaves twigs and parasites in the wounds

left on my scalp 

and swears to me

by the holy trinity 

beneath the red dying sun

that the once gluttonous moths 

now

dead on my tongue

were found by flame in the labyrinth

She left me

an offering of forgiveness, but instead

left me with fertile eggs

 and a mouth full

 of loneliness 

Reviews

[Delmar Cooper]

Are all crows murderous? What does a lark exalt? Do owls sit in the House of Lords or the Commons? Tell me,and be frank, surely there must be a few self effacing lions left extant. Do lawyers gather in suits, like cards? Would it be proper to ordain a nagging of mothers in law? Is there a collective noun for a collection of collective nouns? And why not?

[Inda]

Love this one, the feeling of longing was perfectly expressed here!