May 2015
Judith Barrington
judith@judithbarrington.com
judith@judithbarrington.com
I am currently at the AWP conference celebrating the release of my new (fourth) poetry book, "The Conversation" from Salmon Poetry. The title poem won the Gregory O'Donaghue award from Cork, Ireland's International poetry festival. It's good to be back among so many writers as I've been in rehab from brain surgery for the past year and a half.
Crows
Crows startle the clouds
with grievances never resolved
and warnings blurted into thin air.
Once in a while, the cries of all those who tried to survive
pour from the funnels of their throats.
No wonder we never really listen.
Like most animals, crows tell the truth:
working hard to penetrate our tiny tubular ears,
they cackle on telephone lines while we watch TV.
Once I did listen to a crow, but even when I had heard
his whole story, there was nothing I could do.
Next, I thought, I’d have to listen to squirrels and coyotes.
I like to think I deal with my share of rotten truths
but I couldn’t bear to kneel down in damp grass
and listen to the hedgehog or the mole.
-originally published in Horses and the Human Soul.
Crows startle the clouds
with grievances never resolved
and warnings blurted into thin air.
Once in a while, the cries of all those who tried to survive
pour from the funnels of their throats.
No wonder we never really listen.
Like most animals, crows tell the truth:
working hard to penetrate our tiny tubular ears,
they cackle on telephone lines while we watch TV.
Once I did listen to a crow, but even when I had heard
his whole story, there was nothing I could do.
Next, I thought, I’d have to listen to squirrels and coyotes.
I like to think I deal with my share of rotten truths
but I couldn’t bear to kneel down in damp grass
and listen to the hedgehog or the mole.
-originally published in Horses and the Human Soul.
©2015 Judith Barrington