Two Ravens


We circled each other,

trading pinnacles and views.

I scrambled up to where they

simply lifted off,

I threw an apple core into the wide

windy space beneath us:

neither one flinched, neither

moved an inch as it fell

out of sight--the used-up free-

fallen apple of my eye.

If they blinked, I couldn’t see it--

black eye in black socket--

radiant black, black hole black.

And wings like liquid basalt.

They looked like rooks,

like any old crow,

except when they were close enough

to call to--perched on a rock

like pure exaggeration.

Hydraulic press, I thought.

Kettle and reticent pot.

What they thought of me

they kept to themselves--

not one squawk, not one dire utterance--

though by their dark demeanor

I gathered I was something

of a disappointment--

a scavenged picnic, a bone picked clean.

Or maybe they saw through

the point I climbed up to--

winded, heart beating hard--

and like the living daylight’s negative

took the measure of darkness

there, left me to scribble

in my own black book.


 – Kevin Craft

from Solar Prominence