With meat breath
And thief feet
I hustled
The midnight fields,
Arms outstretched,
Hunting for bushes
To guide me,
Whisky washing
Inside me.

The horses
Had Jesus in their eyes
And they cantered
With the crispness
Of purity
As the sheep
Just moved on by.

Cows stood shuddering,
Mice simply rustled
And the ravens
Sat like answers
With more patience
Than death.

The black beacons
Of guile and critique
Were judging my state,
Berating my ambling
With their dark, filthy caws,
They rattled with horror,
They knew everything
I’d ever said and done
And all my petty

They were
An un-amused crowd
At a stale cabaret,
A jury united
By loathing.
Something was wrong
In the garden that evening,
If they’d pecked
I would not have known why.


One Response to “Ravens”

  1. blonderblondest Says:

    great first stanza….i like the poem.

    you should check out my stuff at sorryapologies

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