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Like A Crow, I Fly

Ian Powell-Palm

One for my father’s shadow.

Two for my mother’s ribcage.

Pass me down this fire.
Pass me down this fire.
Pass me down this fire.

 
Like a crow flying into a child’s house,

I leave blood everywhere. On the walls.
Where the coffee is kept. Above the toilet.

I am gone before they can catch me, but they will remember the smell of me,

In this place. They will remember the way I clawed my lineage into their son’s throat,

before they could stop me. He will sing my stories when I am gone. He will place my ashes,

on his mantlepiece, that day he becomes a man.

 
I said,

Give me the fire, Abraham.

You promise you would. Give it to me, before I remember why I have come here.

Before I become like you. I love you, Abraham. I love you. I love you.

I will not leave this house until you say you that love me as well.

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