Crow Poem for the Hot Dogs


A Crow Poem For The Hot Dogs

No more

Shoe poems and tree poems and willow trees

in the sunset.

Oh let me be the crow on the golf course,

dodging balls,

eating scraps of hot dogs

left by the hot

dogs.

Let me be the golf course crow then,

the disrespected crow,

and I will fly and caw and pick at my black wings

with my yellow beak.

And this crow will perch,

perch in a big pine tree.

This crow will

lift his head to the sky and

caw again

enjoying the day and

waiting

for hot dogs.

 

david michael jackson April 15, 2012


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