A Day Beginning and Ending in Crows

In the parking lot the crows continue their noisy business,
ignoring the commuters in their heavy coats.

When the cold comes in the crows take over the asphalt,
sinking and rising with whim, on a thought the murder

rises up with many voices, a babble of black wings.  
The dog refuses to go out in the wind. The chimes

clang their disfavor, dissonance and dissonance,
carry in the air. Elsewhere the world carries on,

a murder, a murder, a murder, the crows jeer.
The belly fur of a rabbit catches in the grass,

a spot of blood the only hint of the rabbit’s fate.
Even a sparrow, even a grain of wheat, falls

and the wind worms in the layers of scarf
and sweater. Taken together the crows, the wind—

one must strive to refuse the portents, to not see
what is not there. Only a black feather, only the curb.









Amy Unsworth earned her M.A. in British and American Literature from Kansas State University. Prior poetry publications include Sojourn, Tar River Poetry, 60 Seconds to Shine: 221 Monologues for Women, and The Briar Cliff Review. She was formerly an editor for Three Candles Journal. She lives with her husband and three sons in Leavenworth, Kansas.