[We Watched Ravens...]
       

We watched ravens ransack the truck-stop trashcans, plastic blowing
across the blacktop out onto the desert, catching on fence-wire,
blooms of styrofoam in the tumbleweed. As long as we were not
speaking, I wouldn't hear what I was afraid you'd say. I wouldn't say
the words I'd be sorry for. Doesn't the wind need to rest? A motley
sparrow turned his working, calico eye to the sun, heated the mites
then dusted them. Tending to himself, he looked bad.

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Copyright © 2011 Killarney Clary All rights reserved
from Northwest Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission