The Happening
The happening
On the balcony sat a raven it had yellow eyes
It crewed with delight.
Ill in bed the flue, a stream of transpiration
turned into a raging river.
Transported me to the sea which was cooling
and calm lowered the fever.
The raven had fallen to its death into the canyon
of high rise flats.
A man picked it up his dinner of the day saved
he wore a feather on his hat.
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