Lifeless wings twitch like an electric cable
Could it be it’s a message to me?
Black raven you fill up my skies…
Vampirism, beauty, its feathered bill sings to me.
A skull without eyes, soulfully, swallows me
A raven her wing, her shadow casts
A talon into me, almost too deep
I can hardly breathe.
A lifeless wing pulls out; even as it twirls
From the skies,
Black raven you are the ashes of a sun
A star a black hole into me!
Black raven you are the love I need.
Although there’s nearly no life left…
You came close to meaning everything…
Black raven, won’t you
Won’t you, won’t you
Black raven, fly again…
Mark Heathcote's Other Poems
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(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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