crow

our losses leaves shiny trinkets for the crows

gleaming silver melting on the sidewalk

our tears splatter to the floor and erupt into

dizzying droplets solidifying into chains

and pendants like mourning doves

we wear our grief around our necks

opening our empty hands for all to see

this is poverty a heart devoid of emotion

but the crows love to pick through the rubble

of broken relationships and crumbled souls

of the collision between life and death

iridescent feathers shimmer black and blue

beneath a sun dripping light like gold coins

and still the crows ruffle their feathers and

move on to the next house to eye the sorrow

with flashing expressions seeking gain

they clutch humanity’s misery in their beaks

our blood dribbles down from their wings