Warble

We
Plead out, unto the hillsides.
See
Through our screaming, silent eyes.
Hope,
Only for those who’ve enraged
Bad
Men with guns and rocks and

Cut
Through the filthy tendon.
Flesh
Clinging with malice, to our
Bones;
Aching, jagged, solid things.
Why
Can’t you soothe our tearing skins?

Our
Wings are mangled, broken;
Please,
Take the fire, stoke and
Hear
The song, the crying magpie.
Burn
Us, so we may finally

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