Maggie Shurtleff
And you breathe slow like you don't notice
The man's hands following his wandering eyes
And the stench of their findings on his too-late
Goodnight kiss on your already asleep cheek.
I bet the crows last night that I'd give them some meat. Worthy enough to take a chance on the road as tires fly by. They laughed and said you've been away too long sister. And they settled on a branch above me. Quiet.