White Crow

Come here little white crow,
let me stroke your soft fur.
Let me take your white fur
and wear it as a long coat.
I will wear it for my wedding day.
I will make vows in the fire station
where bells like sirens deafen:
they will warn of burning,
on that day of our wedding,
and on the hour of our wedding
for every year after that.

I am unwell, little crow,
I am unwell and far from home
where longing lives in my house.


If Painting Isn’t Over

If painting isn’t over
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