Blackbirds

credit: Tom Noble

credit: Tom Noble

 

In a faraway land

where prayers are recited

in a language

that is not English

 

widows and mothers congregate

in the cobblestone square

concealed in black

 

If you step on a crack

 

blackbirds

nibbling and pecking at the

shadows of former selves

 

they keen in the streets by day

and by night vanish

with their ghosts, into doorways

 

in tiny houses

windows, like open mouths

aim octaves of grief

 

would-be assassins

 

on the other side of the world

widows and mothers

crouch in the alcoves

of a silent church

 

shoulder to shoulder

they circle the globe

and when they take

to the skies like so many

blackbirds

 

the firmament darkens

and rain drenches

the ashes of ghosts

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3 thoughts on “Blackbirds

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