the crow

Photo by Aneth Charles on Unsplash


watched / was aware of me
kept turning its head to see through
one eye then the other then both
saw me eating / listening to the river
moved a little (not I) and flew off

came back as I was still eating
gone again

I thought no matter
the devil’s not interested in me today
so I threw my litter away / the crow swept down
pecked at my empty sandwich container / raised
and dumped it on the ground

there was nothing in there but
a few crumbs so the crow said
get up and put it in the bin

the nastiness of this particular bird
matched anything else in my life

I smiled


I found a place that was relatively birdshit free
a man came / got up / walked off /came back
looked at me / twice / once when he left
then again when he returned / both times like
he was plotting my murder

the crows came in numbers today
one got brave and moved towards me as perhaps
a dot of sandwich hit the ground and the crow
saw this fine detail in the workings of God

another crow picked up a crumpled Greggs bag
and flew up to a safe distance
far enough away from my
heavy existence

the crow stood on the crumpled Greggs bag
and carefully began to peck at it
opening it
like a pretty flower or a dirty virgin metaphor

the other crows watched on as the man
next to me gobbled his Greggs sandwich while I
my rather more expensive Marks &
Spencer highbrow alternative

the only ones to taste the difference are the crows


the crows perch on treetops
and crap on the benches below
crying as babies torn
from the bosom

they stare as I do
into nothing
bouncing on branches
swarming on grass
balancing on
brittle riverside steps
pecking at scenery
until cracks
and our monochrome

Writer with over 20 years in the game. Enjoys writing poetry, fiction, satire, and personal articles. Buy me a coffee

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