Tuesday, March 30, 2021

Catching Crows In A Jar (November 2017)

While catching crows in a jar I find
An angel’s broken wings lying in the snow
Broken angel, fallen, shattered
The crows call, caw, I’ll release them
When they’re no longer needed
My plan proceeds
The angel walks now, on tired feet
Tired soles
A lonely soul
Fallen, shattered on the snowy earth
The jar, a mason jar, fit for pickled beets
Or pig’s feet
Not suited for catching crows
Falls from my hand and shatters
The crows dissolve into the snow
Like a black teardrop in the ocean
A tear from the eye of a mystic saint
Or an addled con-man on the take
Rheumy eyed and drooling
My plan is shattered
Shards of glass cut me
Open me, leave me hollow and burning
The angel’s hand touches my wound
Cool relief
Disbelief shattered
And the crows soar into the setting sun
And the angel is taken up
Rising into a Michelangelo cloud
Only I remain, in the snow
Fallen and shattered 

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