Pilgrimage Of The Carnage Crow Poem by Michael Brosky

They fly to these stones, wind upon wind
Prevails in a howling, Fenris act
As a ravenous glutton itself
They arrive here to suck embryos
To chill all the prayers in your throats
Gusty claws and bouncy string flutters
Nothing more than black rags dangling
It has approached the time of the sun
Even slithery things don't surface
Their rejoicing dies in blinkless eyes
Gagged in shadowy sanctuaries
Casting hurried glances at shadows
Black is black, there's no mercy in that
To utter and fly is to flutter
And stutter, one last leap, and a cry

Dead and holding
Dead and clenching
Dead and gripping
Onto anything
Anything that will ease the cruel gutter
A bloody hand opens to black feathers
Black feathers...
No mercy in that