Saving Crow's Feet

Saving crow’s feet



This is the wrong time
And the wrong place

To save crow’s feet

The ground quakes with rushed tires,
the sky breaks

I am not okay

With the world shifting around a broken life
Headlights bead the road- my hazards flash “alarming” in desperation-

Into the street I crouch to my knees-
To save crows feet

My father’s voice, whisper’s in my mind-

Which used to nurture the light, of helpless life,
softer than any other

His accent was lost over the airs of a decade-

It is as if you wince your soul like eyes

to try and see a dead face,
You once mapped so well

Now is impressionist~
Mostly gone,

a negative,
not exposed.

And I wrapped him,
the crow-

Drove not knowing how to save

Crows feet

And walked into the door of an animal clinic –
Where a box

With a towel softly bandaging the bottom
Was waiting for him

And he crouched, this pinioned friend,
Like a scared hurt child in the corner,

beak arched down.

As I walked away,