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The Shape of Dark - A Murder of Crows
murders rise on nights like these
crows - in bushels cross
and stitch the horizon dead
painting dusk blind
the shape of dark
on nights like these…
memories can snag on sob and storm
from deepest fathom torn
oaths, in cold belly set
the heavy shore
to lag on the horizon
where on ice and rock
they lynch the wing
and in shadows wrought
bury the light
in darkness, vague as death
painting dusk blind
the shape of dark
on nights like these…
mountains shiver into cold sleep
to possess the deep
where ivies bloom and creep
on lattice drift, above the hum
where once clicking the cicadas sung
breaking slumber under blue moon spell
frolicking frond, breathless fell
so reckless, ambles the wayward heart
painting dusk blind…I find
the shape of dark
on nights like these…
on whom no sun deep fire shall look
to shed precipitously
but softly sings the somber sea
her wayward notes afloat
greet the ear (a memory?)
a haunting stroke
the rustling
of voices (laughter?)
locked in throat
painting dusk blind
on nights like these…
I am at peace
a murder of crows in backyard flicker
while in beautiful darkness swoons the distant moon
beating the light
my heart held warm
that no murder on this night shall swarm
save for sounds soft and low
sent through the wind from a distant crow -
Copyright ©
Mat Ignacio
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