Here come the ravens
descending on the cemetery,
taking up their perches
on tombstones and angel wings.
Just in case the funeral
wasn't dark and somber enough,
here comes a feathered shroud
separating into black blobs of gloom.
One cries out at the sight
of a dead squirrel on an overgrown pathway
and the birds leave their momentary roosts,
gather at the carrion.
Yes, it was sad to see your man buried
but imagine if you had just left him there.
John Grey is an Australian poet, U.S.
resident. Recently published in New
Plains Review, Stillwater Review
and Big Muddy Review, with work
upcoming in Louisiana Review, Columbia
College Literary Review, and Spoon River Poetry Review.