I sit for long days on end.
sitting where the nurse places me,
like some potted plant that someone took a fancy to in a discount store.
I am just here,
It wasn’t always so,
once the sun was bright on my shoulder,
briefcase in hand, train to the city,
funny, not ha-ha but funny never the less,
how I started to slip
like too much rain on a California hill side,
or a room full of marbles ,
until the asylum of my mind became a silent refuge
and I forgot about you.
I watch as a crow lands with his road kill
and picks at the dead carcass pulling off bits of flesh and swallowing them whole.
I feel as if it is my mind you know.

THE CROW AND THE WOMAN
I sit for long nights,
not wanting to taste the warmth of the sun.
it was not always so.
once I was warm, a wife, a mother, a lover.
Each new day I watched as the briefcase hurried to catch the train
and my heart would leap with its return at the end of the day.
It started as a joke.
“You would forget your head if”…
Like too much rain;
at first was just a trickle over the top of a earthen dam.
I sit in the empty air and watch the black crows fly here and there.

THE CROW AND THE GIRL
I sit in the garden beside a white robed ghost .
the odor of disinfectant and decay hang heavy in the still air.
Old memories flood in like to much rain
and melting snow.
My thumb turns the plastic coated pages,
that was me on your knee,
and the broken arm which mended’
swing sets, pony rides, my first corsage.
Don’t you recall?
You were there through it all.
If I could only see what you see.
If I could only take some of your pain away.
I watch as a crow so black it’s wings are almost a shiny blue.
Its beak is stained with blood from the dead .
It spreads its wings and flies away.