Forest Raven 

I’m coated in this whiteness

It has a scent of ancient & 

A sharpness of stone blades, hand-hewn & aching

What wilderness can keep hungering

Like this winter white, it’s climbing

Rung to rung up me, its wrapped itself

About me, consuming the soft folding Morning Glories, 

It is all bright wind & howling night inside my chest,

I am the Forest Raven, screaming to feast upon the small dead things littered upon these floors, your discarded scraps & angry bones

I wish to swim across these silver gilded skies, 

I rise & rise, folding breath with the wingbeats, 

The blackness of Nevermore shall never pass from me 

You will find me, gazing black-eyed & free


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