This week’s prompt is Birds and Bonds, which I used for another long-lines exercise. Again, I’ve done it as an image; click it to bring it up larger.
Below the cut, the poem in text, with broken lines. Oh, and — forgot to mention — I have another Raven poem, which will be published in a book about ravens, soon to come from Rio Nuevo Publishers.
Raven
I tie my hair in a knot at the back of my neck. As I do this, I think of you.
I watch Raven, watching me — his beaded eye. My life is a ball of string.
I want to give him that ball. He will hide it, like an egg. He holds all
the secrets. Another day of reminders that I am a citizen of a damaged
country. Our hearts are broken, cracked by fear. Perhaps I’ll shave
my head, offer it to Raven. He will cache it, a large pale egg.
This new-moon night is dark as feathers, dark as thunder. Raven will
take my braid, use it to line his nest, high on a hidden cliff or the soaring
tower of some cathedral. My braid will warm his chicks. I wish I could
speak with him. I wish I knew his harsh tongue. If I could puff out
my throat like he does, if I could inflate my hair, become large and bold
and glossy; if I could speak his language, I would not be so afraid.
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