Poetry of ravens

The raven gossips,  
your body is fermenting,  
—calls to his brother  
decorates your soul with an empty stomach  
 
Predatory culture snips the lines of order  
keeping the duo dancing to the tune of lament  
One misstep and the eagle will lay claim to what the ravens have pilfered  
In the folds, they have versions of dissection  
They’ll strip a clean bowel for you  
 
Preachers can’t teach the scavengers about scurry.  
Or about fury and wingspan.  
About enrol over dole—  
throwing poise of idyllic guard into discern  
 
Puts quill to parchment  
Jots the depths of nourish with a dark pen,  
where the poetry of ravens  
falls into the ocean of mixed sewage  
’neath the waves with the bottom feeders  
   
The brothers are the custodians of this parlour.  
The hammers of indulge and deploy.  
They are the books that sculpt the grey matter.  
The jewels that crease the fescue.  
 
They redden in the cheekbones.  
Soil on the feathers.  
Spoils of the weather.  
Back in the outlands, in some dusky ditch  
where they ward off the eagle with superfluous crowing  
 
Melancholy is a serenade beneath the skin where the ravens bloom.  
No going back on your disjointed beak,  
blunted talons,  
the drizzle of wisdom enlisting mixed pace—  
Until you are gorged on  
bloated,  
greying  
The requiem of a shrewd sibling and his proctor  
 
Bend the willows to let the breeze in,  
there’s a matter of thrill over thrive.    
They can’t combine a murder;  
they stopped calling seven moments ago  
 
In this bleak and everything catastrophe,  
crimson rivers are gelatinous  
 
The sun faints the eagle who circles,  
keeping a staunch eye on the pruned provisions  
he splays his fingers tilted downwards  
like a missile, unspent  
lowered and leavened  
 
In the cross-section of the muse,  
the brothers choke down the marrow  
the gritty nectar nudging through the bone,  
amidst the firing line of a bruised companion  
 
The eagle is the child slinking  
before the spades fell—  
punishing him to sift through the slim pickings  
 
With everything left unrepairable,  
the eagle is left with less  
than no quest at all