Black Crow

Black crow, how did you find me?
What was your road in?
How did you believe?
Who wrapped your wings in wire?
Black crow, you come with a weapon:
A dagger of mica, sharp as a whip of sun.
How do you mean to spend your time here?
Young one, over the red fields, into a caul of ash,
Through to the morning.
Black crow, why do you shake so?
What are the sounds you’re choking on, and is that a green glow
Moving behind your eyes?
Black crow, i can’t use this,
Though it may fit in my hand as if in the love-tight
Grip of the newborn.
Young one, over the red fields, into a caul of ash.
Young one, sleep with it by your side, bathe it in whispers.
Young one, the blade is not mine, the blade is not mine, the blade is not mine.
Black crow, hang on.
Don’t go. hang on.
Don’t go.
Don’t go.