(Originally published in
Fall 2020-Winter 2021.)
Corvid
In your experience, it is best to look at wild animals
From the corner of the eye. A turn of the head, a direct stare
Will be seen as challenge, predation even. Best to make yourself
Tucked-in, nugatory, a small stone or egg, but hyper-aware,
The way you register, walking, alone, in the woods at night,
Minute gradations of motion, light. You are ready to disappear,
Make yourself another tiny night-thing, watching the silvered light
Fill with what you fear, but you’ve also learned to abdicate fear,
Haven’t you, walking home through the woods beyond the back gate
Of the university, loose-limbed, silent, half-predator
Yourself, lightless, reading ground finding path through boot-soles, duff, twig, ice,
Terror is for well-lit rooms, the old persistent scritch-scratch, but here
It has become the chilly ichor running through your veins, the face,
Yours, ranging like a second moon through the trees, it is best to look
At wild animals from the corner of the eye, you’ve learned to seduce
Crows, snaring them in your peripheral vision, an entire flock
Has encircled you, you theatrically place bits of your meal
At wide angles, ever closer, the crows eye you, hop forward, jump back,
Until you leave one morsel on your extended hand, just behind, feel
A dry
peck-peck-peck
on your palm, you have never been happier,
You remain perfectly still, the crows too have stopped their usual
Backtalk and shabby strut, when you raise your eyes (just slightly)
They are almost solemn, staring, days or weeks later a crow (yours?)
Slams into a plate-glass window at the National Library,
The security guard cordons off a little space for him (or her?)
With the red velvet ropes used for visiting dignitaries
Where he (or she) lies semi-rigid, suffering the stares of researchers,
And your own, it is best to make yourself tucked-in, nugatory,
A small stone or egg, breaking for your usual lunch on the yard,
From a distance the crow is little damp bundle, another
Keeps vigil from the parapet, you are watching too, from the corner
Of your eye, something like a cry building in you, all hour, all hour.