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She whispers affections on the page
skeleton thoughts to be made into someday
lost boys nobody saw
the graveyard silence she saw them all
crows call with the the clang of the clasp
at the side of the flagpole
the wind stirs the baretree leaves
shift under feet
asking the questions
what’s a god doing with two ravens?
what would you trade for wisdom if you could?
what would the queen say to this way
in the cold dark night of the neighbourhood
she remembers the words of a man of grace
the language is rusty but she can
trace
her featherered pain along her wrist
of two dead ravens in a ditch
crows collect and file the dead
and feathers in the drawer of the desk
each reminder sparks in the light
to help us to remember
whats a girl doing with two dead ravens?
what would you trade for wisdom if you could?
what would the queen say to this way?
in the cold dark night of the neighbourhood
what's a girl doing with two dead ravens
what's a girl doing with two dead ravens?
what's a girl doing with two dead ravens?
