Ravens by Bruce McRae
The ravens make a cloud of themselves,
racing the treeline, flying from disaster
to disaster, priests’ souls seeking heaven,
a haven where assassins low contentedly.
A natter of black comets and war’s ashes,
ravens share the same name and destination.
A cawed mantra of hands and corruption,
they ask and give no quarter.
The ravens chase the clockwork of light,
pieces of a black jigsaw, a puzzle
thrown into the air by a natural god.
Like oil cast upon the sea and sky.
Antimatter with eyes like children.
Jagged cracks in the world’s mantle.
©Bruce McRae 2015
Follow Bruce McRae
Pushcart nominee Bruce McRae is a Canadian musician with over 900 poems published internationally, including Poetry.com, Rattle and The North American Review. His first book, ‘The So-Called Sonnets’, is available via Silenced Press and Amazon. To see and hear more poems go to ‘BruceMcRaePoetry’ on YouTube