crow noir

the old crow watches
head cocked
the light
playing off
of it’s ebony feathers
in shimmering spectral shades
of purple and green
there is
an understanding
in those black orbs
an intelligence
that is lost
in the auspicious
unmoving form

it speaks volumes
in the unnerving
hinting at
a debt owed
a life taken
without need
for preamble

the man sits
at the offending harbinger
of doom
hidden in the shadows
of the drapes
a thin sheen
of sweat
across his forehead
as his protruding
adam’s apple
between nervous swallows
of amber whiskey

flashes of memory
in his beady eyes

fire engine lipstick
on the rim
of a broken wine glass
the white linen tablecloth
in a heap
on the floor
with scattered cutlery
across the tiles
the remnants
of a dinner

but he doesn’t see that
as he blindly watches
the crow
that seems to stare
directly at him
no matter
he tries to hide

the pool of blood
spreads slowly
across the floor
as he stands
in stunned horror
at what had occured
only moments before
lightning crackles
across the sky outside
showing the silhouette
of a lone crow
taking note of murder

in his chest
to the shaking man
is a leaky valve
that is straining
under the added
the fear has spiked
throughout him

then suddenly
he darts forward
towards the window
his hand
clutched to his chest
as his brain
a new wave of panic
the valve
the last thing he sees
before the light
from his guilt ridden eyes

the crow
as it throws its head
to caw
in triumph

a debt owed
a debt repaid
in full

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