A Murder of Crows

Dusk is the time, all mottled
and thin, when her blank eyes rise
to stare in a way I know
they cannot. Six feet of soil
covers a secret; daisies
tell of old plots. A grave smile
worms its way, twisting through thought;
a knife blade biting cold flesh,
slicing through the haze of years
to an olive grove in shade.
Such raucous cries, a murder
of crows circling, disguise a
demise in vines far below.

Ryan Stone

First published in Black Poppy Review May, 2015


12 thoughts on “A Murder of Crows

  1. Ugh.. this gave me the chills.. your mind is phenomenal. How do you go about to write these terrific lines? I was griped the same way I was when I first read Poe.
    Bravo! (but don’t read this.. or I will have nightmares πŸ™‚ )

    Liked by 1 person

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