shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Trapper Markelz

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Will I Be Your Tragedy?

We don't really own anything, but we are great
at borrowing it vigorously before it is taken away.

Will I be your tragedy? Our travel thin
between a murder of seconds, my subdividing cells

just a little too out of control for my liking.
I've learned that crows can recognize our human faces.

They've evolved that way for a reason. If they know
you, they'll call out anywhere in the world.

Will they notice when I stop coming around?
A release of wire, and up they'll climb,

taking my crow name with them, carrying
trauma, passing it from bird brain to brain,

a lipless language spoken as a high cry above
the earth in the trailing reach of a brutal sun.