Saturday, February 10, 2007

poem

Fold a Wing over Your Eyes

When raven sinned
God sent him north
To the colder land.
Raven became scavenger.
Before, just trickster.
Raven did not know
How to find sustenance.
Many died, and God
Had to keep creating
Raven, over and over
Till man showed up,
And left some scrap
On mushy tundra. Raven
Followed this creature
Thinking, “this being
Is the reason I am here, in all
Its Cumbersomeness and discarding.”

But the bird was not sure.
Trickster, yes.
There was no language
Before this temperate exile.
So raven was comfortable
With the leftovers.


T.A. Delmore
Copyright 2005