10,000 Crows

— Chelsea Jennings

river of birds in a river of blue       tearing the edges of clouds

with minor violence they drag down the dusk       each with a piece
of dark in its beak


evenings they come here to lose their sense of direction
to wheel without formation       fluster the willows       disorient the wind


crows brighten by blackening       until the day comes untethered
until they set their shadows down

there’s a glint on the underside of everything

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