shake awake from sleep
while crows gently peck open
my sleepy kohl lined eyes
carelessly smudged
at corners, black dotted…
feeling weird I wonder, ” should
I resort to smudging?”
on another tack, harbinger
crows caw messages and a
chisel falling from the sky softly
adheres to my limp right palm
as if it were a magnet or made
of velcro, homing in…. it was
getting curiouser and curiouser
by the minute…
sitting on upper limb of still bare
tree crows watch me; beady eyed
necks going pendulum, forgetting
normalcy of scavenging
more taken or driven
to supervising my careful paring,
sculpting skill…. I wonder if they were
artists in another life…
lopping off a good sized block
from nearby storm felled tree
lying belly up, my right hand
feverishly begins chiseling
eyes closed, artistic fingers in manner
of reading braille, with sure strokes sculpt
bone structure of that beloved face with gentle
eyes from numerous dreamscapes
a silent plea rises from grieving
heart beseeching “in case you feel
an urge to peck, kindly spare the
eyes as they belong to my beloved…”..
sagaciously nodding, the crows
take off in unison bearing away the
sculpted head they’d just commissioned
and my eyes heavy with sleep lower lids..

image is from internet


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