the murder.

the murder,
of crows.

they gather in the
elm tree.

(do not take this from me.)

they hem and haw,
they yaw and pontificate.

i cannot help it,
if you are lost.

the seeds?
the flowers?
the tree?

they are growing.
even after drought,
they thrive.

the hive, the bees?

i do not know where they have gone.

but the monarch,
the hummingbirds,
the sulfurs and the cabbage moths.

they fly and land, they are nourished.
they are found in me.

look in the copper bowl.

the skull,
these bone runes.

the goldfish,
the lonely koi?

they swim around.

he saw them and pointed
them out to me.

he cringed,
i tucked them
into my pockets.

they make me sing.

he loves me.

gives me
a room of my own.

i give me.

and over the fire, he feeds me.

rose hips, garlic chives, white flowers
sweet meat.

a spider's web,
this silk draped
over my dreams.

lay your head on
feathers.

sleep.

dream.