It was a crow
That bit my cheek
With the hesitancy
Of a new lover.

Feminine
Talkative, sullen
His pecking sharp
in the heat

A concern, when
He drew blood for the
first time from my
neck while we ate dinner.

Later I licked the dry
copper from
my fingers and
chewed on my hair.

Always walk on the
well-lit side of the kitchen
my mother said,
grinning

Okay: I am left sipping
on cold tea with the windows
open the air is warm
and it is sudden.
.

Covered in feathers i wake up
alone, talon marks across
my chest; I left the bedroom

window open again.
Sinewy yellow
The sky blinks at me
I am locking the window
and sleeping for weeks.

Originally published in White Wall Review 41 (2017)