Poem: Crow

Poets
and other lesser
prophets pretend
to perceive personality
and other anthropoid
properties in you.

Crow,
inside your eyes,
I know
this poetic pretension
is a prevarication.

Descendant of dinosaurs
too deft not to persevere
in the cacophonous repercussions
of that colossal bolide’s
prodigious plunge,

your ancestors scrutinized
with petulant patience
our impetuous ascent
while your progeniture will
contemplate our phosphorescent descent.

Crow,
inside your eyes
I know I
am the anthropomorphism.

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Tagged: crow, poem, Poetry, Sterling Lynch

Posted in: Poetry