Ravens

 by Sheikha A.

The beasts have retired beneath trees

as shadows of fallen leaves; fruits

have withered baring branches thick

and dismembered like masticated limbs

of skeletons — graphic night and hubris-

moon shining on the hair of seas, silver like

keeling of seals, indigo rumble like waves;

sea-lions have surfaced, and the unknown

untethered.  A second moon slithers into

a sinking oasis, island’s body ridged like

indelible wrinkles on a sage’s hands; the

direction is misguided, third-eye onyx sheen,

and the cyclops has gouged out its vision

but the beasts are sharp, their ears picking

on burning wind; the fire gets nearer; woods

wrapped in a diaphanous whimper.  They

stir like hills under heavy barks — stooping

necks; hollow sockets on face of trees —

Click below to read the second poem by Sheikha A.

Stormcrows   

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