Unravelling and weaving, sometimes simultaneously


I do not want to be your nightingale
that sings sweet songs into the gloaming pale.
I do not want to wear a peacock’s gown
and strut with you about the gawking town.
I will not be a guinea hen for you,
lay eggs or keep a nest, always be true…

I am, and always will be, just a crow
the shiny black-winged woman that you know
who sits high, watches far, and loves so deep
my heart will guard you even as you sleep.

Too smart for my own welfare, pencil thief
fell curious, entrenched in my belief
that every story’s woven as it should
(we have such limited ideas of good).

(c) RCGA 2015



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